I am the son of Thor. The blood of Odysseus runs in my veins. I breathe thunder. My heart is the ocean.
Do you think I am the son of Cain To trade my inheritance for your bowl of soup, For your shiny things that vibrate and spin, For your **** and violence, For your ***** pills and swimsuit models? I will close my eyes to your neon lights. I will hold my breath against your sweet poison. I will close my ears to your siren call.
I will dive below the cluttered surface of my consciousness. I will seek in the darkness and find the spark of the sacred feminine where she slumbers in the cold stone stillness, Lightning will surge through my nerves and I will explode into flame.
Your filth will rise from me like smoke, Your carnal lies will fall away like ash, I will smash your idols like twisted mirrors, And you will remember god.
At what point does it become your job as a man to question the stereotypes that our actions support? Where do they come from? Who are they really serving?