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 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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