Dark unfathomable
The 'spanse of the universe and more
Yet nothing to speak of.
Sparks jump between the only fingers,
Tendrils of self seemingly of their own selves.
Strange though they were, they appeared of a purpose.
A lonesome eternity without a face, one couldn't help but wonder.
Expanding, creating, material springs from the depths of his mind.
Atoms crackled, gentle hands guiding them together.
There they found each other aglow, a thing without a name
But form and use, valuable at birth.
His hands, they were thin, transparent in the new light.
Even when a thing was his it failed to give him hope
Despair found him, the lonesome creature wept.
Horrible dark taunted his sorrowful heart,
Teased and prodded the big man.
A fury became, a thing unlike any to compare, tainted his lonely heart red.
Rage smothered his beautiful son, crushed it into nothingness.
The particles themselves begged for forgiveness, begged daddy no
Blinded was he by the red, desperate cries lost in the thrill.
Loud was the terrible pain and material of his mind cried still more.
Even the dark itself shed away from the sin there in the light.
Red fuels his cruel destruction, turning to all he had done, far too much.
Failed father lost control of that mess he made in a fit of rage.
Horrible light, blinding, it lit the terrible dark and he knew then
Then, why the dark had been so absolute
Slack jaws, milky eyes, splayed limbs, broken souls,
Memories, memories, better lost. Never again.
The last, not the first. So long had his solitude been bliss
Bliss, even as his feet planted themselves upon his fallen kin.
Flesh and blood! No petty light trick; no frivols game.
Eyes unseeing, big man saw none else
The vengeful son cackled then, wrath unparalleled
As it exposed endless plains, mountains, valleys of death.
Its vendetta left a wistful scattering,
Kindled sparks and debris, solar systems and galaxies.
That strange thing life began there,
Suspended in the universe born of hate, creatures able to love.
King, now, of death eternal tilted his head, watched.
He heard our first ragged gasps,
Wept as he felt his own lungs, immortal still.
We were as his kin, a lesser breed of the strewn species.
How he longed as he watched us hold one another!
Wondered what it would feel like to touch another, hear another.
How he hurt as he watched us die,
Fell bitter tears as we killed one another.
He stood in the midst of those cold corpses, watching as we did the same.
Worse, far worse, was our love for him,
The lonely, bitter monster who naught but watched.
Some did kind things in his 'name', few indeed.
Some committed horrors in his 'name', a larger sum by far,
Things so foul even the big man, knee high in those cold corpses, looked away.
He crouched there, in the remains of his brothers,
Clutched his broken mind and swore,
Whispered, "I am no deity," "I am no god."
He swore! Screaming out of empty lungs, he cried
"I am not your God!"
We swore to him still, swore in hope, swore in anger,
Rage, sorrow, pain, love, wrath, lust, hate.
The whole being of humanity adopted his name,
Cursed him with our psalms and qualms.
Deep were those curses cut, regret was the man in the sky.
He looked down on us, down on his feet in the blood of his own
And he laughed, slow at first.
Mad was the King of death eternal, bitter God of the people.
(6 January 2015)
YOU ARE READING
An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & Papers
PoetryThere once was a sad girl, not that long ago, in a kingdom not so far away. Perhaps a glance into her somber scribbles might help you on your quest to scribble for yourself.
