mjolnir

Rage is all-encompassing, all-devouring. It is entirely bereft of sympathy, or logic, or reason. It is the fire that devours everything in its path. It is madness leashed, albeit lightly, to an intellect suddenly lost. It is cunning in its creativity, fearsome in its power, and awesome in its dark splendor. Mere humanity shields its eyes from the passing of such a potent force, like a hurricane from calm waters. Within rage drips the venom of every lost cause and thwarted design ever birthed. Rage is singular, intent, and focused. It is not to be trifled with, by any tacticians, or statisticians. There is no accounting for the limits or abilities of an emotion so powerful as to blot out all other concerns. Anger in an opponent may be seen as a weakness: rage should be seen as a signal to retreat before the onslaught. Rage is a tornado: moving swiftly, obliterating all in its path, then disappearing as quickly as it came. It heightens the senses, spurs the reflexes, and accomplishes miraculous, albeit deadly results in its wake. Beware rage. Leash it, contain it, watch for it with all your might. If it escapes, run from it. Flee like the demons of Hell pursue you. Rage takes a toll beyond your ability to bear. It is a destroyer. It will consume any in its path including the one taken by it. This I know well. Rage is the harshest Master of all, for it takes all you are, all you have, and leaves you empty and alone. Once that is done, all that is left is rage.