His dreams are legion. Of ruling the world with his own fashion of sanity, of riding terrified upon a creature of high price. The process of his dreaming and its discourse with humanity has led to wars of nations underground, where the mighty prey upon the weak in a twisted parody of Dante's dice. In his heart, he knows I know he watches, even though I do not see him, for he watches from afar.
There is a power in the world which rides on a false god, and the price is far too high that we must pay for the unlearning. Metal birds screech overhead to subdue the truth of what is cried. One day we may wake mystified to learn that we are subjugated, forced unto our knees for fear of the terrified.
He waits, to come when opportunity calls him. He knows who he is. And one day, the minds upon the planet may turn and ask him why he wants so much destruction, and whether it is worth the price he asks we pay.
Somewhere in the sunset of our evolution, we have to know what brought us so close to what we prayed would never come.