We Are What We Were; Ruminations Upon A Desultory Phillipic

I'm endlessly old; my memory goes back almost beyond forever. I come out of the Middle Ages. I am the primitive savage we are all descended from; I believe in devil-worship and the power of the stars; I dance under the new moon, naked and tattooed and blessed. I am a cave-dweller, a contemporary of Mastodons and Mammoths; I am Pleistocene and Eolithic, and full of the lusts and terrors of the great pre-glacial forests. But that isn't a shadow of a shadow of me as I am millions of years older; I am an arboreal Ape, an aged Baboon, with all its instincts; I am a pre-simian quadruped, I have great claws, eyes that see in the dark, and a long prehensile tail. All of me doesn't begin to describe half of me; the end product of eternity's dabble.

And I am alone. The sky above harbors nothing to look back at me, nothing to compete with me. This is why I must be mine own enemy.

I and we would end all of you and me were it not for Krispie Kreme.