Literature
All That Could Be Lost
He was a Monk, quiet, smart, devoted.
He was fluent in the language of Body, Mind, and Soul. Tapestries covered with ink, written onto skin with every caress. Tender, careful, worshiping, to even an ungodly creation born of hell, with only death under its cloak.
He was a Madman, violent, cold, calculating.
Twisted, darkened, frightening beauty, he painted with life blood, grinning wickedly as his works lived while his supply died. Scars made for enjoyment, decorations to his smooth, limber body, a masterpiece in the making, one that may never be completed.
He was the Sun, warm, vibrant, confident.
With pride, his head raised high, the wo