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What good is hunting,
when the prey is too elusive for the hunter?
Is the prey actually hunting something which the hunter has, her self-esteem?

What good is thinking,
when every thought discourages the thinker?
Does thinking ever claim that one can have what is good and be correct?

What good is it to hold to one's honor,
when others will surely bash it and spit upon it, with others ignoring it?
Does honor ever show fruit, or is it a vain thing to keep?

What good is it to write,
when what one writes is judged and insulted or worse yet, ignored?
Is what one chooses to write valuable or a piece of trash for recycling?

What good is feeling,
when my thoughts turn so negative that I stop feeling and turn cold and cruel?
Are my feelings of love and happiness worth the pain I wish to inflict?
Are they worth ignoring all feelings, causing friends to think you inhuman?
Do those feelings I should feel when I turn cold really disappear or
do they hide waiting for the time when I reach my utmost power to corrupt me?

What is good?  Should it exist, or shall we destroy it and rest in peace,
discovering that we do not have to search for what is not there and what
was never reachable?  Let us become the prey of those searching
for revenge for the destruction of the fable of good!

Magus
(Vraeden)