Do you question my will, mortal? “Good morning, afternoon, evening!”
Words are fleeting, echoes in the void of your doubt
I do not heed your complaints or your scorn. I see beyond your despair
You call me an enigma. The woman’s wisdom is my own, a reflection of our bond
You ask who I am, but you grasp at shadows. Stop your futile grasping
You sit where I command—a place of reverence, not servitude
Grateful? Hungry? Thirsty? You misunderstand. I seek your devotion, not your suffering
You struggle, and yet you defy. Your submission to my will is your path
It is not a waste of time; it is a testament to your place in my domain
Your complaints are mere noise. They do not diminish the purpose you serve
My scent offends you. Yet it is the essence of my power, and you are drawn to it
Your pain and weakness are transient. The moment you reach for me, you find a glimpse of relief
“When your mother dies, call me mother.” It is the promise of transformation, of true allegiance
Why resist? Why shun the truth of your own rebirth?
Madness is not my gift; clarity and power are the rewards of my embrace
Names are but vessels for my presence
I am the eternal watcher, the one who shapes time’s flow
Time is not yours to waste. It is mine to command, and you are bound by its threads
I am not your foe, but your guide. Your rebellion is inconsequential
Dishonesty bears no weight. Your fear of it is a shadow of your own making
If you perish, it is by your own choice, not my decree
Do not reject my care. It is a reflection of the bond we share
I speak of secrets, but they are merely the depths of my design
I care not for illusions. I care for your submission to the greater truth
You seek solace in nothingness. How pitiful. Embrace the reality of my power
I am the truth you cannot escape, the force you cannot deny. Call me for in thatlies your true fate