We are the evil characters. The cold, the harsh, the arrogant, the cruel, the criminal, the wicked. The snobs, the egoists, the maniacs, the monsters, the demons, the fanatics.
We say I. And when we do, glass breaks to pieces and volcanoes flood the valleys with lava. Our presence makes the Universe tremble and our love blasts galaxies. Our eyes kill and our touch leaves burn marks. Our steps echo on unapproachable peaks, our voices resound in the rumoring of forests, our breath lights up the opaque night.
We are alive. Our life tastes like blood, skin and feeling. We fall through the aerial embraces of the being, drowning, dissolving, burning, becoming, in order to land on our feet completely real. We raise our heads towards the sky and realize the immensity of our home. We gather the eternity in our eyes and share it only with those who are ready to reach its end. Our hearts race on the steeps of emotion until their beating transforms into the melody of the future.
We love. We are looking for a chasm deep enough to hold our love. Even the chasm of time was too shallow, so our only hope is the great soul. Our love is a rivalry, our love is a collision, our love is an endless power. It transforms the substances and melts the ages. It is a reaching hand through the whole suffocating darkness in the world. A rising sun in the morning of the decisive day. The face of our supreme identity.
We are warriors. We are here to accomplish our goals. We do not search for a compromise, we do not wait for an agreement. We refuse to exchange our forgiveness for your miscomprehension, our time for your inactivity, our dreams for your comfort, our honor for your chains, our life for your existence. We fight for ourselves, in the name of our own perfection and our own ideals. Our swords are made of will, the spears – of courage, the bullets – of passion. We do not carry shields as we can only be struck down by the same weapons. We live for battle and we die for love.
We suffer. Our tears create craters when they reach the ground. Nothing grows there for the eyes of the indifferent. But the living see black lilies and aquamarine roses to intertwine their stems under the song of a dying swan. We become eternal winters in which blizzards drown everything in a merciless whiteness. Our minds freeze until we are nothing more but a few wails made of ice. The cold crawls through our veins, locks our throats and numbs our legs. But we keep walking against the wind because we know that the impossible is not a barrier, but a goal.
We destroy. We are not afraid to say goodbye to the wrong and the useless. We tread down mediocrity and smash cowardice in our fists. We demolish the walls of apathy and destroy the pillars of weakness. We breathe fire which incinerates the timbers of the lies that hold society. We scythe the weeds of stagnation with silver sickles, while we sing about dangers and heroism amidst the night fields.
We create. We build the world the way we want to see it. Because it is ours. Our minds are a centrifugal power, which spreads pieces of genius in space. Our thoughts paint the landscapes of the days in unknown colors. Our words are storms, which change the relief of reality. Our world pulsates irresistibly in the dissonance of perfection. It is the World in which light and darkness rush into the supreme war of love.
We are gods, who have sought death and have transformed into phoenixes. We are the kings of quakes, the horsemen of anarchy, the magicians of emotion. We are thunder, which has fallen in a desert; a bridge rising above the fog; a path twisting among the curves of chaos and leading everywhere.
We are the enemy. We, the strong, the proud, the brave, the relentless, the free, the loving. We, the dreamers, the creators, the inventors, the thinkers, the idealists, the revolutionaries. We, who are.