I have paid religion with flesh and soul. I have given Yahweh my tithings. I have let the Church covet my mind, my soul, my body, my free will.
I have been told of evil. Told of Lucifer, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Satan, and Belphegor. And when the priest told me these name, these demons who preside over Hell, my eyes gleamed and I was exulted.
I know these names from the lineage, from the Holy Trees and the righteous path. I know these names. From the hieroglyphs and the ziggurats, from the pyramids and the celestial bodies. I know these as my own flesh, my own density. I have never found comfort in Christianity. Never found truth in the abomination of the Bible.
But the stories. I have known them as a babe. I have heard them in my past lives, from the Sumerians, the Egyptians, the Mesopotamians. I know to well, these stories. These truths.
Daemon, they have transcribed your name to demon and caste you as evil. I have found solace in the truth of balance and karma, not doctrine.