The Faceless Bastard sits and laughs,
neither saint nor sinner,
his is both at once.

He watches, amused,
as we break ourselves in our attempts to name him.
And names he has,
more than he has time to count.
But he remains undefined, unknowable,
in all of his aspects,
and all his incarnations,
or any of his faces.

But he smiles to himself,
as we chase him with our titles and our names,
to crown him and to burn him all at once.

AcB 7.25.00