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I laughed, and they joined in.
I kissed their cheek, freed them from sin.
Salt on my lips, I spoke forgiveness.
Funny, being a child at eighty.
I'm somewhere between atheistic and agnostic, but the idea of 'God' has always drawn my attention. The certainty people have of 'his' inhuman perfection... well, it's not very satisfying.
This is the highest truth:
Pleasure tender and sweet;
love warm and complete;
either or neither, both or extremes;
with two hands or none,
'neath moonlight and sun,
for all and for one,
consent sits supreme.
"No," is always enough.
Let us be as Zeus.
Not as he became, but as he was-

-a hero,
To his brothers and sisters.

-an end,
To tyranny.
Brown hair, gleaming bronze,
Plaited or free;
Blonde tresses, golden pale,
Curled or bound;
Black mass, thickest dark,
Wild or tied;
Red waves, sanguine silk,
Shaved or shorn;

(Both are lovely.)
wants what it feels,
needs what it thinks,
bleeds what it will,
and you are left to live,
thumping ignorantly.
I wonder: 'Who is Zeus?'
Who is the son of traitorous Kronos and beleaguered Rhea?
You: a declaration: intent on becoming: "Tell me,"
He is the folly of Man given might, a thunderbolt blight,
bled black Kemet, fallacy bent unto wretched epithet:
Elicius-largest: Jupiter ascendant.

This is Your tale, babe of squalor:
royal illusion ( ) delusion pressed
red into the white of Our marble edification:
table dressed in bronze/blade a throated song/stinging queens
spited joy

'Oh, Hera, honoured Mother: a saintess I have become.'
'A saintess.'
'A saintess.'
'A sinner/killer/thief of ****-driven masculinity.'

"I am Zeus: King and ****** of all things gentle!"
figment derived authority
a boy unborn from womb-destroyed embroidery/legitimacy bought with coin

"Tell me this tale."
There are italicised parts missing, which would have denoted yet another way of reading the above. They are as follows:

'This is Your tale' - 'spited joy' - 'figment derived authority'

— The End —