Older Gods 5
We stood upon the flat black surface of the sea, as if the world had once been a volcano and was sheathed now in obsidian, unyielding, cool and obdurate. “Go,” echoed in the new formed bones, our sinews hummed like harp strings resonant in that command, but we who had been anchor weight and dense, dispersed, infinitesimal, one, entwined, reformed and filled with purpose, steadied ourselves for a shared eternity. Sparks rose, shocking tingles when our new translucent skin touched skin, our bodies filled with unbloodlike ichor, iridescent blue, flowing in transparent vessels.
Time means nothing in that place where no stars course across the sky, where the no swelling brazen moon lights the night then hides, modest voluptuary, curve still half seen in reflection. We communed, two cores of a pale blue lamp in that colossal dark, bodies touching at the tips. So much more than we had bargained for in the distant past, the yesterday, when we fled from our island shore to seek acceptance and permission.
Slaves to the first law, there was no spending, no little death, but energy flowing to and fro, crown to sole, and reflected back again. Until we learned there was no boundary for satiety in this form, no furtive whispering of secrets, no miserly moments out of sight. Angels twinned, immaculate.
The throbbing command held so long in abeyance hurled our bodies skywards, the ocean spread below us, and we saw the wavetops breaking over the lone God’s far demesne. There, pale pearl floating on the green and blue, the lost loved outline of the home that we once knew, from which we fled, the distant past, the yesterday.
Love. Oh for all the harsh words and the rage before our leaving, we could not bind the love that poured out at the sight of golden beaches, and the crude huts of our fathers, the faint signs of fishing boats. Why did they war, deceived by base desires and the call of man made Gods? How could we, enlightened, empowered by an elemental truth abandon them to their misguided fates and fortunes?
Arm in arm we flew, westward against the wrenching ache to travel north, alighting where the sea kissed up against the sand, in dead of night, all lights extinguished, seeking out the dwellings of our ancient ancestors.
Upon a pallet dying, the skeletal patriarch, the little strength left to him had fled with us across the sea. Silent we knelt, abject but unapologetic, and he with fading sight saw two angels and his lost descendants. He cried once, with frail hands he blessed us, then he died.
There was no time for weeping, the cry awoke the clan, who clamoured in, and saw us alien and naked by the deathbed of their sire. We fled before their anger, as we had fled before.
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