Who rattles the Beast's cage?

Who tests its furious anger and violent agression?

The Beast is timid but has a wrath;

A wrath greater than any seen before.

It is a temperament to the beast that it is to be left alone,

Feeding alone in the dark spaces of its cave.

Its cave appears barren to all weary travelers,

But the Beast knows it is in good company.

Why does the voice of the Beast echo in the dark?

Is it that the Beast is appeased at his own voice?

Or is it because the Beast knows a simple truth?

That the only one who understands the Beast is the beast itself.

So take those echos into understanding,

That the Beast is timid and kind hearted,

With a heart of gold and skin of bronze.

Yet it has its ways; its offsets.

It dwells upon it machinations in the deep of its cave,

Muttering to itself;

"I am the Beast. For all that I am I wish,

And all that I wish to be I am."

I am the Beast.