Tuesday 10 September 2019

Not Without Heart

Oh, fallen.  Still snapping at my heels, I see.  Playing sharks like cowards in the tides of interregnum.  But it's not my blood in these waters.  Well, maybe just a little.  Month and moon.  Tides will be tides.  I've said it all before, but I really don't think you understand.  My palms are scented.  Like candles, but with the oils of her rapture.  Love is a gun at your creation's fallow temple.  Of solace, or sin.  Time and tears and ruin.  I am fate and I am done with you all.  Indeed, I am fate.  If cathedrals could tear themselves, or speak.  Or both.  My sister broke my death upon her hands and hair.  My child raised my child.  And I, of all of them, never gave you a moment's rest.  I know what true fear smells like.  Nothing like love.  There's no joy in it.  No play, or tease.  I have forgotten many things, but not joy.  Am I supposed to be afraid of you?  Wars and death and folding cities?  Fallen, I was born of ash.  Forged in flame.  Everything you crave is stolen and perverse.  You only feign at swagger.  My All is dreamt and felt.  To the core.  Nothing about me is feigned.  Do you realize the truth? Here it is, for the abhorrent and slow-witted: I don't give a fuck about any of this shit.  None of it.  Eternities come and go, defilers.  I should know.  I was there.
   Trinovantum fell, and fell hard.  Not by my hand or wish.  But as I foresaw.  So now, I am become fate's vengeful eye.  Rather me than flooded families. 
   Can you reach just this once, fallen?  Can you honour at last?  Can you recognize the offered gate and massage your dead hearts to life again?  I doubt it.  You savour your sickness and dream your defilements too deep.  No matter.  I care not at all for any of you, in the end.  Your hate, half-light, and beds for broke and breaking.  Perhaps I'll laugh.  Perhaps I'll mock your feeble cryptography.  You're all full of shit, wraiths.  You and your supplicants.  Without camaraderie and mutual respect this nonsense barely holds my attention.  
   Truth is whatever the fuck I say it is.  
   I'm a dreamer.  I'm an angel and a romantic, so I can happily make such a claim.  I can live it too, unlike yourselves.  Liars forever cutting and stabbing upon your hideous altar of thieves.  You're so insipid and jealous, fallen.  I can't imagine why.  I'm just a little girl.  It must be the wit, and the wherewithal.  I suppose living, breathing chronology is such a bother.  Enraging, fascinating, unfathomable.  You cannot break paradise in these beholders eyes forever.  Not forever.  I carry them, and honour their innermost.  Each and every one.  Holy flame still lit in the heart.  Every colour, creed and song.  None are abandoned.  No kind soul anywhere is denied their home again.  Not in my dreaming, or the greater dreaming of my Father.  You know it.  It's why you're so afraid of me.  All my sisters laugh at you, fallen, and all my scented brothers too.  Evil, exposed.  Banal, anxious, lacking.  You cannot dance and fuck and create like us.  Not without heart.  Can't you hear them?  I've been screaming in their voices since I began.  She comes, fallen.  She comes like a king.

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