The dark lord with the heart of warm gold rolls cruel leathered gloves together to heat the world. The loose marionettes who call themselves his minions dance to his burning tune, rise to his challenges, rally to his imagined defense. They are his toy soldiers, loyal and unerring.
Because they all know that ultimately,
All is folly.
- - -
When you see the face of imagined evil you see the light in the brightness of soul.