Chapter Text
I was born two, with firmest resolution
Finding purpose even as these mockeries
Of myself. But still I knew that any strength
Could as easily be weakness, and mercy
Can become not unlike a creeping terror
The longer it has you in its icy grip.
So quickly the Skeksis fell into your grip.
Not one could stand before your resolution.
It did not take long for them to learn terror
Once you had punished that first small mockery.
But you were still more brutal in your mercy,
Protracting the fall and securing your strength.
I am no coward. To hold back was strength.
This world was not made for our alien grip,
To assert our will would not have been mercy.
Thra’s heart will sing us its own resolution,
While you make yourself a further mockery
And poison us both to drown out your terror.
I do what must be done despite the terror.
I am worse than my kin, no matter my strength.
Thra can not be left to face this mockery
But I balk to think of my soul in your grip
And have come to consider it a mercy
That I will die before the resolution.
I save the child in name of resolution,
Sing soft and gentle sounds to soothe his terror
And learn to love him through pragmatic mercy.
I build a new and other kind of strength
To help put an ink brush in clumsy child’s grip,
And I smile at his loving play mockery.
When I warned you, you took it as mockery.
This always would have been the resolution.
The Gelfling will slip from your cold tyrant’s grip.
I feel it now, your welling up of terror,
For when an iron fist has no remaining strength
There are not many left who might show mercy.
Terror can not spare you from time’s mockery.
I have no more mercy. You have no more strength.
I break your grip and need no resolution.