Ogres are like onions; they have layers. Shrek knew this as he created us from the divine glow of his majesty. The righteous ones of true mind and green soul accept this fact of life and leave dormant the layers of existence, knowing that they are perfect and unquestionable. However, those unfortunate enough to deny the Ogrelord and, without him to shepherd them, wander into the dreckness of the Quaadnight, will be without rest or satisfaction; their idle hands beginning to claw into the layers with nails of hate and death in search of the inner light they abandoned. The more you peel into this onion of existence, trusted to us by the Ogrelords large green hands, the closer you get to the divine truth, the rich pungent core, the key to infinity -- and in this, you disturb the Final Layer. The final layer between you and the consequences brought about by your loyalty of the Ogre. This is the flaw of the followers of Farquaad: they seek truths that they cannot even begin to contemplate. Truths designed by the Ogrelord himself. When the day comes that the Ogrelord must judge us, the day we must cross the rickety rope bridge of guilt and doubt, He shall peer into our deepest layers. Then, he shall build a wall down the middle of the swamp that composes our physical realm, dividing us into two groups: those who embrace his light, his love, and his life, and those who find their soul encompassed by those ever-present shadows that appear during the witching hour, cast by the eerie emptiness in the skies of the Quaadnight. This is when the final layer shall be peeled back, revealing the grand truths so desperately desired by the drecks. Truths of the Ogrelord and his swamp, truths of the universe. All of His creatures will look into the core, they will experience this final grand gospel of truth, and they will weep. Those who held the Ogres hand in life shall travel with him as they cross into death, to exist forever in his perfect swamp kingdom. Those seduced by the Charming allure of Farquaad will be doomed to wander the empty streets of Duloc for eternity, void of purpose, meaning, or significance. Truly, they are cursed to live a sort of pseudo-life, an eternity of silence, a nearly unending state of sensationlessness that is broken only by brief spells of regret, and a dull ache of icy hollowness. An ache of ice that is colder than even the deepest corners of His universe. It is the chill of the void left within every Dreckquaad; the void spawned from the absence of His touch. When the Ogrelord leaves this realm to take his true children to the swamp kingdom, he will forsake the Drecks, tearing from them his love, his life, and his presence layer by layer. Every layer that he tears splits their beings into withering husks until they are left with only a layer of isolation, regret, and dreckness. And when they wither down, and their entire being consists of this one single layer - this thin, fragile, shallow veil of a layer, the Ogrelord will turn to face them. With a face of calm, bittersweet acceptence, a single tear of pity for his lost children running across his cheek, Shrek will speak unto them for the last time with a calm, quiet, subtly remorseful whisper... Get outa my swamp...
Posted on: Mon, 07 Apr 2014 04:45:04 +0000
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