From My Student Record, 1995
Imagine a man - simple, ill-equipped for the task of mastery of himself - who works his way to becoming like a god. An adept who wields the elements for his weapons and creates and destroys as he chooses is hewn from this man. Then, this adept turns to see, looming before him, a gulf of infinite horror. The adept relinquishes all to annihilate himself in the abyss. Thus is born the Master of the Temple, for whom all the glories that were him are mere toys. It is indeed awesome to consider this Master. What can he not do, if but any desire could stir him? Yet, more terrible to consider is he that crosses not the abyss, but creates a stronghold therein. Though the end will yet see him fall into the seething pits that he rebels against, he is indeed a terrible figure. For he has created, if only for a while, matter out of chaos, and he commands the legions of the Abyss. Yet, the Master looks down to him and smiles sadly, knowing that all toys must topple.