In the beginning was nothing. But at the end? At the end was the word.
The word was with god as death to the alive. One. One i had to own in life before my death.
The word was god. But not since the beginning; in the beginning was nothing.
The word was god. Was bread and wine. God, goddess before mortals like me. Before nothing; like mortals like me. Now is the word I crave for, word I carry in my heart.
In her —the word— was life. Grace and truth. Light of men. And surrounded by so much darkness, chose mine to make her home. Because besides being word, it's life. And of mine, made Eden. And in this paradise I established altar for her dwelling.
The word was made flesh. She became imperfect to men —to humanity—. Stopped being a goddess and became woman.
But the word is not men's.
Is mine.
In the beginning was nothing. At the end was the word, life, goddess in woman. Muse.
YOU ARE READING
Beloved, my John
PuisiWe were gods in those days. Now we are more than that. [First time publishing my pieces in english. Any feedback would be great!]
