They had a vision. A vision. Only they could see it. They tore the world apart for its blindness. They could not see the world for their vision. The vision eclipsed it all, the murder, the rape, the lies. All for the greater good that never came. Now to their graves and what chthonic judges await them. That judgement, it will be fair to be unfair, some think, but have you never felt passion? Can you not weep for these monsters that didn’t have to be? Yes, fire and brimstone, humiliation. See, if you want; dig them up in a hundred years and find their rot, that last indecency of time, to recycle and forget the meaning of what was. Shall we be unjust then too, to be just? No, let us see truly what is. Visionaries, slowly decayed in soul, chasing after a false light. You may have been just as easily enchanted, and were you born with their gifts, would you have been any better? Let us pray for their souls, if they still had souls. The corruption of all awaits.
Eulogy: Vision
Tale Told 