I of the Burning Eyes

It is I, the observing diviner, who prophecies your end! I of the burning eyes! I of the encompassing heart! It is I, watching on the sidelines and beating my breast! I of the wailing transfigurement! It is I, the most portentous Grecian seer! Listen and tremble. The goddess of wisdom speaks through my ramblings. Her words possess, hypnotize, and flow like a great storm, forever imprinting its passage on the wounded landscape! Take heed of the wild storm. Know that it is built to save the strong and destroy the weak. The weak will ignore and be overrun; the strong will become cognizant and overcome. To you of the jagged soul I screech: "Spoiled rapists of the ideal! Where does your window lie? In the east or in the west?" Feeling for your careers with blind and lusty hands, you drift in capitalist currents, bobbing in your horrid life preservers. But the brail map you read is terribly misleading. It will lead you to the cave of Profound Confusion. Inside you will be devoured by Rootless Discontentment, that vulgar beast, and your lives will turn gray and bleak. You will remain amongst the living but be dead inside. I see your bloated mental corpses floating in my crystal ball. You of the jagged soul: turn your path elsewhere! Your undoing is already written in fate's patternless fabric! Hurl off the yoke of convenience and begin life anew while you still have the chance!