Older Gods pt9


Older Gods 9

The apparition spoke: “I can taste where your scent skims the meniscus, grass after a storm in brilliant sunshine. I remember. I see a shadow beneath the veil of your constructed bodies. I remember. My voice echoes alone around this chamber. Where is the voice that I remember that would never leave me unanswered? Who are you to bear the traces of my lover? Who wakes me from my paradise, eternal slumber, with a taunt, the merest taint of something greater?”

Our bodies chimed like bells, as form emerged from the bright cascade of water. A resonance, reunion with a long lost mother, and the overwhelming rush of knowing something forgotten we once knew. It washed over us in waves as the form collapsed back in the pool, then spiralled up again, spraying a mist that scattered torchlight across the chamber in dizzy arabesques.

We saw within the swirling shapes, projected symbols from an ancient time, the writing from foundation stones of ruined temples and crude marks on cavern walls. Your years of study in the tortured time before we fled; the time of jibes and the cruel connivances of our abandoned tribe, the taunts as you turned yellowed pages, ancient tomes, while outside I railed, fought and defended; had shown something of this.

Another older God, the twin, the lover and the partner. A God beneath the ocean, and a God beneath the mountain. One we sought from signs that you deciphered from crawling scripts, one sought out from a new compulsion woven deep within our bones.

There were no words with which we could convey time’s brutal passage, the birth and death of nations, and the lost millennia. Nor was there any future that we feared but separation. Hand locked in hand we stepped into the mountain God’s black pool and finding no floor allowed ourselves to sink. Dissolution. We dissolved.

All that we knew exploded: the distant prison in the ocean, the rise of newer Gods and the world’s collapse towards corruption. The lingering sense of everything that once we had been, and all that we became, sluiced through our disintegrating bodies, a  stain within the darkness, spreading, glowing brightly blue.

In return we learned the ocean God’s old shame. This Earth, this creation both Gods had spawned to share their love had turned from a floating bauble hung within the starry sky to an obsession for perfection. The ocean God had drawn out of himself the spread of lands, the fields and trees, and with the potency of Theic love had made mankind to glorify his lover.

The water holding us suspended trembled, sending shockwaves back and forth across the pool. “Fool, fool, was I” the mountain God cried out. Tears falling from the liquid frame collided underneath the waves with our dispersing forms and made them once again. On a surge we were cast out of the water, choking, whole and living. The vibrance of two Gods now beat within our breasts, we could feel the weighty restlessness of the rocks above our heads, the earth below us floating on a lake of liquid fire, uneasy as the God so long asleep cried out again, “Fool, fool, was I.”

“We poured our love into this thing that we had made, not content to spin within each other. What he gave life I gifted sentience, what he planted I made grow, until that same creation grew to know its grand progenitors. And still this cheap thing spun from ether absorbed all of our energy, to make it better, brighter, more capable of adulation, able to choose and pray unfettered.

“What he planted I made grow. The search for betterment and for improvement, spilled from him unseen upon the fecund earth, and spread with the winds to sprout as sustenance. We seeded the poison of desire into our own creation.

“Yet so absorbed was he in his grand work, so desirous to demonstrate the great expanses of his love, he could not see the taint that followed him, and I devoted to his cause, adoring every bead of sweat and tired breath made myself the seive to stop the stain from spreading.

“It rooted, deep within the living heart of this bright planet, sucked its own sustenance from the sun and distant stars, while I weakened and in growing desperation he ploughed all of his energy into the very thing that was killing me.

“So much of ourselves was spent on this obsession we became dependent on the power of worship and belief. What blessed relief when arms were raised in sacrifice, and heads bowed in fervent prayer. But it faded in the relentless press of sprouting weeds and dandelion Gods grew up out of men’s greed.

“Broken, I became the ghost of this lost sepulchre, until drained of belief I fell asleep, hearing the distant yapping as my love was hounded to the sea.”

Our bodies began to change, the glow bled from blue to green, the limbs stronger and thicker though still recognisably the median of the shapes we once had been.

“You, denizens and avatars, will bear my message to my love, and the sign of my forgiveness.

“I have been waiting centuries, at long last you have come.”


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Older Gods pt8


Older Gods 8

Our thoughts were bound more closely at the times our bodies wound around. The idea that started in your mind traversed through our skin ending and reflecting in mine. We saw shared memories from the perspective of each other’s eyes.

Feet buried in the foreshore, head to head and hand in hand, we saw each other as seen in the lens of our own eyes. My reckless exuberance, your cautious contemplation. My doubt once off the precipice, your soaring certainty. How I urged in stolen moments our only course was that we flee, how long you pondered, read and planned, and then when I thought that we would die apart upon the sands that spawned us, you said “the time has come, we shall be wed under the aegis of our lost deity.”

But now, joined, so much more than married, it is my headstrong rush that pushes your foot into the yawning void, your need for evidence and analysis that holds me at the door. The sudden flush of joy in remembering what we have overcome brightened our glowing skin, parted the darkness, we stepped within, as one.

Stairs wound into the mountain, a throat which swallowed light and us, spiralling down through air unmoved for eons, smooth walled and dry, without a trace of dust. There was no fear, not trepidation in our long traverse, but sorrow sweet and bitter hanging heavy, absorbing sound.

We grew dizzy through the long descent, surely far beneath the surface of the earth, and though ice locked the world above a dense and humid warmth enveloped us. Darkness sapped our strength, we could not fly, and in case of falling stepped resisting the steady pull of the unknown lying in wait.

And then it ended, a sudden flatness over which we stumbled, muscles still accustomed to the twisting of the stairs. A tomb, chapel, sacristy, broad pillared hall, a central pool and as if responding to our presence torches flared and filled the scene with dancing shadows imitating life.

The surface of the pool throbbed and rippled with our hearts. Here was at last our destination, the place our God had re-formed us both to find. From one corner of the world and to the other we had come, a journey long, marked with a moment of the deepest sorrow and mile upon smiling mile of happiness.

We gave no thought to what might lie ahead, what our God had brought together, nothing could tear asunder. We lit the chamber with our own unearthly light. Our hearts which had so long beat to the time set by this hidden sacred pool now set the pace of hammering until the waters rose to our accord. Our celebration of a life now lived within two lives awoke the spirit slumbering beneath the mountain’s weight. We heard the voice, bone deep and echoing as our own God’s voice had done.

I have been waiting centuries; at long last you have come.


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Older Gods pt 5


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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part six



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Older Gods pt4


Older Gods 4

What needs a God with our forgiveness if we are but the consequence of his long fevered thoughts? Should I beg understanding from my hand burned in the fire?

Yet in the brutal conductivity of brine there was the tang and bitter stinging of regret. Our substance spread and incorporeal was soaked in the welling tears of the lone God’s long held shame.

“Go.” He said, with all the force of one whose words could bring whole worlds into existence, and in that moment we were recreated. The gravity of our souls, our dispersed essence, dragged the cells of you, me, I, us in two spinning crucibles, the crushing weight that tore our limbs apart now forced them back together. Something screamed. You, me, I us; something that gloried in our utter coalescence, the joining and the permanence, tore from the cloud and formed into solidity. “No.”

But there was no strength that we could muster, the shredded last dregs of our belief turned back upon us in a rage, as if all the universe was now remade, and we who sought so long for acceptance of our unity, and found it more completely in this world ending darkness. We were separate once again.

The God was not ungenerous to the pilgrims at his gate. We were not as we once were. Unconstrained by birth and parenthood, our bodies formed themselves more perfectly. Almost androgyne avatars, sexless as the sunset touching on the evening tide, yet every inch of skin now capable of coupling. We who had so fleetingly ascended, transcended now the base clay of massed humanity. That fine honed sense that told me when you walked into a room, the desire that burned within the air that we both breathed, was inconsequential now. Thoughts that flickered in your reconfigured mind, completed in mine. Sensations on my tongue stirred in your senses. We were apart, we were still one.

Sentient, angelic, imbued with the mad God’s sole instruction, and the knowledge we should seek out the freezing wastes we rose from the lightless kingdom, back into the starless sky.

Across the surface of the sea, that echoed like a drum, the lone God murmured his laden plaint:

I have been waiting centuries, at long last you have come.


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part five


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Older Gods pt 3


Older Gods 3

Disembodied we connect now more completely, cells in motion swaying in these current pressured deeps. Now there is no you, no me, no consciousness wrapped up in skin, no ties beyond the ones we choose, no master, slave, no kith nor kin. The mitosis of the God’s blood is undone. Collapsed, compressed, at long last we are one.

And yet amid the electric impulse of our joy: you, me, I, us could feel the thread of something left unsaid unravelling. In the paean of this mad and lonely God, this deity trapped in darkness, this Lord bereft and manorless, is the shadow of some immense untruth. We who lost our youth to ageing travel, desiccated by the salt and sun can sense the veil, invisible, afloat upon the sunken waves, the dance of something long desired but always swaying just away from sight.

The God; drunk on our long awaited draught: belief; sensed the poison of suspicion. We glimpsed the shadowed vaults of his vast mind, the galaxies colliding in their stately walk to death, the effigy half hidden in the lightning of his thoughts. The poison fired him, unable to stop his being soaking up all our belief, the venom of hestitation reflected his withheld confession. His rage tore torrent and tornado through our vaporous existence, until expended he fell sobbing in the throbbing quiet vastness, inseparable and one we coalesced again.

“Ask not”, he begged, piteous shadow of omnipotence. “Ask not, for I am so long alone in this hard darkness, and maddened by the very scent of you.”

I have been waiting centuries; at long last you have come.


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part four


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Older Gods pt 2

2013-05-29 14.26.00

Older Gods 2

I wept this world into existence, gnawed the firmament to anchor mountains and the sky, spat seeds to plant the mother trees. I bound the whole in my own hands, and from my bleeding blisters I made man.

Such curious things you were, so keen to contemplate the nature of your maker, so cunning in your artifice and your joy of making things, eyes always in search of difference, to catalogue and differentiate, as if you were not born out of the spatters of my blood.

I gloried in the variegation of creation, the purple moors, the white capped mounts, the surf, the sea, the infinite shades of blue and green. You counted up them all; assigned a category; classified and codified; weighed, measured and valued.

What right have you to judge, determining the destiny of any but yourself? I made you articulate and ambulatory to leave you free to move, unshackled by silence. What was it in the ichor of your substance and the air that I bequeathed you that made you seek dominion, to raise other gods than me, and in their name impose your will? What made you so arrogant, so beholden to your “me”?

I wept again in horror, and washed it all away. Thinking I had cleansed the world, heedless I let your pestilence spread out unchecked, until aghast I saw brutal scars upon the surface of the earth, the power vested in your filthy pantheon of envy and desire. I raised my hand to bathe the world in fire, but my potency was gone. Without belief my blood ran thin, my bones clashed and rattled in my skin, I roared but raised no wind, the sound echoed shuddering and died within. They laughed. That brothel kin of childling Gods, the man made masters of the world of want looked upon my pitiful predicament and laughed.

So here I fled. The last miles of the world for which I bled, the deeps where the sun I lit no longer shines, and the creatures of my lone imagining will never find. I fled and I have waited, knowing someone would raise their voice against the world where greed now means the same as need. Someone would strike out in search of me. My blood will out and I will rise again.

I have been waiting centuries, at long last you have come.


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part three


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Older Gods pt1


Older Gods 1

Raised in the floating barrels of cooped conformity, and ripped on the coral floor of justice by jealous deities, we fled these shores in search of older Gods. We sought the starless sky, absent of the hymnals of our dreaming pantheon. We left behind the lights of harbours and the last vestiges of home. We forged our own and undirected path between the hunger of the north wind, and the waves daemonium. Soft flesh salt dried to skeletal, skin haggard on the bone. Until exhausted, coracles entwined, endoldrumed, flat in mirror black, we floated in unnatural calm, ruined bodies languishing irrevocably alone.

With no whisper from the stifled air, no lapping from the waves, our own voices sucked to silence we heard the hammer of our heartbeats perfectly in time. A fury in the drumming, a persistent double tap, call, response, contiguous, a ritual in rhyme. We pierced the bottoms of the boats, the water drank them down, and we sank ceaseless and willing, the drums called us to drown. We sank. Who can say then if we lived or died, for your hair spread out like thunder clouds, your eyes flashed like lightning chains, but the manic beating slowed until a true and total silence dissolved all of our consciousness, the twists and ties of our like minds were unravelled and undone.

We heard the voice then in the darkness of the sensory divide. In the moment of our separation where our thoughts could not elide. Vibrant and enveloping, bone deep and resonant. Shattering in the certainty that our long search was done.

“I have been waiting centuries, at long last you have come”.


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part two


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