Out of the narrow darkness I came forth, glittering. From far within the Ur-cradle of my regretted forefathers. Scorned then smelted on a brazier of white froth, my bleu eyes dawned on the Miller wife’s watery apron. Burgeoning with winter flowers. On a Purple Sea.
My red hair was a divine sign that my inward nature couldn’t be, but a solar stain branded on a diaphanous rawhide. A mark that could only belong to honorable & noble hearts alone. Those divine, who would be scorned for their insolence. No mortal man could thus be wounded in their pride. For they have none.
They are merely human mammals. Bastards of my own making. The price of Lust, indecently exposed!
Torn curtains between 2 unmixable Worlds. My love’s dew spilled on a door mat. At the front entry of a City garage. Ejected into a parking lot. Piecemeal. Covering the world with toll machines. Sewage pits.
And the wind stammers blinded by the poplar & the beech in the valley beneath.
Yet with frail sadness I do deplore your sweetest redemption in those tears that fell down for futur mournings.
I gave birth to the prolific egregious giants of yore. Mixed my blood in the mortal cauldron of infatuous women. Human females filled with a clay’s wet ocre moisture. Beautiful lovely beasts. Long carressable golden hair, a dark and very neat pubis down under, taunting even Death’s haughty demeanor. Created without conscience. Mechanical in retrospect. Hating me for my immortal arrogance. They are unconscious. Nevertheless, …
Prometheus was my Son.
This is how physical violence became aware, thru carnal pleasures of a healthy sexual erection into the Void, surging into the outer light of this cavernous day dream. This is how the beginning of mixed blood and then all degenerate attitudes were started. Impaled onto the human head. Piercing the diaphragm! I created all Four Infamous Races. The only species we dare call Mankind.
Generating creatures made to die. Decay, & fold within. Niflheim. Dark black abode. Eternal heavenly all Father. Holy Abyss. Maker of Death, Sickness, Happiness, Hate & the Hope to live.
I do salut you. God of Fallen Angels. You and I fill the Night time Sky with shiny saliva quivering.
But even you, I do regret immensely, are a slave shackled to the Fate of your own making.
“Samah Azag !”
I read this piece with great enjoyment.
Prometheus is of course, utterly ignored in the droll press of this disintegrating civilization.
However, for those who remember his essence, there is the destiny whirling, as if perceived from a dizzying height.
Good piece!