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the messenger of the roman deities that inhabit the pantheon.
the wings that nip at your heels as you soar through the upper regions of the cosmos, as your skin rages with the heat of our star the sun, the centre of the star cluster.
the planets were forced to rely on you to lead their departed celestial souls to the realm of the outcast Pluto with your aureate sandals and headgear with your caduceus pointed in front of you, gesturing the way forward to doom.
the cratered surface of your grey skin, impacting your odd tilt in spin as the journey lingered on and on, through the asteroid belt beyond mars and the giants of jupiter and saturn that curse at you for their inevitable death.
but oh how their words never phased you, and instead the lyrics that strung the thin strings on your lyre flew like a swift through their ear canals and beated across the membrane of their ear drums and made their minds wrestle like the gymnasts you proposed them to be.
you stole the axes from beneath their feet, trading them on the black market that the superior gods frowned upon but all you did mutter was 'it's in my soul and part of who i am.' thieving and commerce and leading them to their foredoom. that was all part of the genes stretched across your scorching skin and pinions.
and along the way, you fell in love with the beauteous nymph, with the stars that freckled her dermis and whose blabbermouth drew you in like the sirens of the sky whose voices lured in the planet sailors of the galaxies and got punished for her transgressions by jupiter with a slit of the word organ and escort to the gates of the underworld by her lover.
the planets scorned you.
but oh, how that never phased you, and instead their words aided in the lyre's lyrics paving a path of constellation to pluto who awaited their judgement and you tricked them into giving their all their pocket finances from being the greatest of the great.
you found another lover, tossing the nymph away into the black hole like she was never appreciated and she bore you two children that you were ashamed of, hiding them from the cottage in the woods as you continued your messenger job.
And when realisation dawned upon us like how the sun kisses the horizon good morning at daybreak, we knew that the journey you lead all the luminous bodies of your fellow brothers and only sister, was just you leading your blemished, ashen skin to be lacerated off and feed to vengeful pluto and your metal core being transformed into the comets that cosmologists name themselves after.
so oh mercury oh mercury, first planet in our nebula, does all of this define who you really are?
