ÆFRE SWĀ DÆGES, ĪSERNUM-BORDHREÓÐUM
GRYRELÉOÐ OND HLÉOÞCWIDE SWĀ! 
FÉÐEWÍGUM SĒ EFTCYME! SWĀ SĒ WIELM BLŌD!

Thae Verra Wordis o' Battle Auld! an' Verra Prelude War-Hye o' mine! 
Tae ye a' ageyne tell Ah! afor yondir Forgotten Myrk Whunstane!
Fore cannae ye a' see? frae ma Verra Vision, Thais Immortal Battle-Landis, 
Fore let mee Thais War-Sange, ne'er tae e'er, wi'in Anie Quiet Loch, wane!
Nowe ageyne, weall! thro' Hye-Boilin' Steel-Bluid Eternal Ȝell:

Cauld an' Feudal Battle-Yeir, Sacral o' mine A.D. MXVII hynne! 
Let mee weall, weall! stick-an-stowe intae Thais Deep Past Bluid-Fyre, 
O'er Thais Hoat Airn, ma Guid Auld Swaird Feathfull! 
Ays a Distinct War-Vision Ah nowe stylle see! unco radiatin', 
Dogydder wae Thad Bygane Shower o' Arrows nowe ay War-Invisible:

MĪN HEAÐUWÆD!

An' afore Thae Hye Lowes! ma Stane-Hearth, nowe hynne remember, 
Fore ageyne! ay maun nowe Thais Bluid-Vision o' mine tallid unco Ah! 
Ays Supreme Fyre-Wylle! o'er an' 'yont th' Cauld Lang Hame, 
Meanie Feudal Towmonts ago, hynne, wae ma Airn-Wame, 
An' th' War-Mask o'er ma Swaird-Cut Cheek Bane
Unco haiwin', a Feudal Rebel an' Wulde Brooch-Wearer, Ah!

DOLHWUND OND BORDRANDE, 
EFT WLWULF SWIÞE WÆS IC!

Intae CARHAM'S BATTLE MAYHEM AULD! an' th' Scyld-Horror
Ne'er, IT! thro' th' Murky Moorlan Nicht tae unco wane! 
Wae ITS Open Jaws, an' Het Braith, an' Whyte Teeth Dazzlin', 
Thro' Thoosan Cries Norland an' Clashes Micht hynne! 
Frae Thoosan Battle-Scheldes unco Wooden-Colorful Thay A'!

BORDWUDA MĪN HRÍÐ,

Across yondir Scyld-Wauch found masell hynne Ah! 
Verra, Verra Guid Vision! Verra, Verra Guid Wunner!

NORÐÞUNRES SCIELDWEALL,

An' th' Steel-Spirit, verra Gleamin' IT unco haiwin'
Thad deep thro' ma Battle-Veins in Deep Moorlan Gore, 
Yondir! o'er Thae Blacklyn Hylles, wae ma Guid Claymore-Lore:

LĪEĠÞRACUM NÆGLING!

Ays a Storne Micht! Þenne an' nowe stylle unco flowed, 
Hwenne, IT! Great Þunor's an' Bauds' Warlike Orrah! 
Th' Daye-Luminarie at ITS Zenith-Trune Sacral, 
Verra, Verra Hye IT! waes, wae Rid Lowes Invincible
In nae, nae hynne! Hye Skye-Agony dwellin':

ĒACEN DÆGSCIELD,

Invisible, IT! intae Thae Deep Cauld Norland Skyes
Whare Thais Sunne! allwayes unco owre Wee, 
O'er Thais Horizon Harsh an' Warlike an' Dreary
Wae Fiery Skye-Dignity Primordial unco rules, 
Hwenne, IT! weall, weall Ah nowe stylle in Fyre Thad see!

STĪELENE GLYDERING,

Great Kvaysir's Orrah! th' Swaird-Hurt Schawdu! 
HYS Ghastly Apparition o'er Whin-Rock devastatingly makyt
Wae HYS Bluid Mirk! downe, downe! descendin', 
Hwenne, IT! ****** Hel's Guid Battle Orrah! 
Th' Enraged Ocean spake nae, nae IT laanger!

OFERȲÞUM BRIMRAD,

Wae HYS Whispered Woirds o' War intae HYS Storne Rageful, 
Hwenne hynne, at length IT! Airn an' Guid Thundir's Orrah! 
Th' Gore Sacrificial o' thoosan enemies o' mine! 
Quhame faced a' Ah! th' Lone Wolf-Feeder! ay nae Age-Worn! 
Wae ma War-Blade Dearest, THOROLF GIED called:

DYNGES BEADULÉOMA!

Red-Boilin' IT becam! an' frae Cauld Horizon tae Cauld Horizon extendin', 
An' Þenne a Vortex Feudal o' Coagulatin' Energy Micht! 
Indistinguishable frae thais Battle-Mass frae Auld Carham,

A LONE CRIMSON WAR-FIGURE UNCO MICHT
WAE THAIS BOILIN' BLUID BATTLE-SACRIFICIAL
UNCO! IN WAR-GORE PERENNIAL MAKYT! 
FRAE THAIS CAULD PROWID BATTLE-LANDIS
O'ER A'! TAE TH' WOUNDED SKYES HYE SOARIN'
WHA'S FEUDAL NAIM GORY, TH' OWAR-MANN! 
AYS WYLLE O' MINE BLUID-INCARNATED! 
FRAE DEEP TH' BYGANE, TOWARDIS YONDIR FUTURE, 
NOWE AFORE MINE SCARS O' WAR WAES
O'ER AN' O'ER, GUID BRUNANBURH'S ORRAH! 
TAE MEE! WAE MA SOLITARYE VISION
WAR-BLINDED UNCO RETURNIN',

Weall Ah hynne remember! An' nowe play mair, mair for mee! 
Yer Steel-Lyre Auld Wise! Fore Ah e'en mair distinctly see! 
Thro' Wreaths o' Bluid-Vapor Sacrificial, th' Heat o' th' Strywe! 
Theare cam forth, Ah say, an' TH' THYNGE! soared, unco free,

HEAHÞRYM OND DRĒOR-HÉAHSÆ,

O'er Thais Swaird-Encounter an' a' th' fallen afore mine eyes, 
Bye wha's Naim neither Ullr in Airn Enraged hynne, 
Nor Kvaysir Micht! nor Auld Vargs Unda gleamin'
Nor o' Hôm Loga Himna Hye! waes IT called, 
An' IT swayed nae, o'er th' Battle-Mass Gory!

CAMPWÍGES CWEALMDRÉOR,

Nor thro' HYS Feudal Bluid soarin', IT spake in any Battle-Ȝell, 
An' theare IT unco remained! o'er Thais Perennial o' mine Swaird-Hel:

MĪN GEMYNDIG GIET ÞUNRODE!

Wha's HYS ROUND SCYLD O' WAR held hye! towardis th' Sunne! 
A Continual Lowe o' Dense Fyre hynne a' gatherin', an' a
Luminous Rain frae th' Zenith-Sunne Invisible, thad waes IT

WAE REASON THUNDIR-FORCE A' STEERIN', 
DAZZLIN' LIGHTNIN' PERENNIAL A' CONQUERIN', 
TAE TH' INFINITE ITS WAR-BLUID INCREASIN', 
O'ER TH' SCYLD O' TH' OWAR-MANN
AYS A FYRE-RAY AN' MICHT STAR FLASHIN', 
AN' IN FEUDAL AIRN DWELLIN',

Hwenne! HYS Substance frae Bluid Sacrificial intae Gleamin' Steel turned, 
Thro' Loud Cries frae th' Battle thad stylle heard Ah:

WULFUM BEARHTM!

Stylle Liquid Metal o' War Dazzlin'! Feudal Wapin Formidable! 
Weaponized Airn-Soul Fetch'in-Micht o' mine! 
Wha's naim, in loud cries stylle! ays a BLINDIN' STAR O' WAR SUPREME,

HEOFONSTEORRA-GEBYLD,

Frae th' Remote Zone Mirk o' th' Luminous Skye nowe appearin'
Waes! Þenne Distinct a Titan Steel-Colossal IT becam, 
Whileas Thae Auld Woirds o' War Whispered Thay!

BLÓDWRACU,

Wee, ewyre-remembered, an' nae at a' Damnable Thay! 
Thad winna Thay a' ne'er, ne'er fade awa! stylle
Wi'in ear o' mine thro' th' Whooshin' Wynde
An' o'er th' whole Kintra rulin', stick-an'-stowe felt Ah:

ENDELĒAS MANFULTUM OND MÆGENÞISE
MĪN GEWILL ÆT SĒ ŌFER-MANN BIÞ, 
FORWEARD OND ÆGHWÆR STÍELE SWĀ, 
ÞA ÍSENWYRHTAN SĒ ŌFER-MANN,

Th' Frame! The Verra Frame o' Hye Conquerin' Steel-Feudal! 
Frae yondir Norþan-hymbre auld an' verra colorful! 
Wae th' War-Blade Bleezan intae deep Thais Battle-Storne, 
Th' Scarred in th' Cheek! th' Lone Scyld-Fighter:

BORDHREÓÐAN SCEADUGENGA OND WRECEND!

Nowe unco! Great Orrah! o' Soarin' War-Airn Empowered! 
Wi'in Thoosan Hye Skye-Clashes! Wi'in Thoosan Onslaughts, A' Rairan o' mine! 
Tae nowe in Airn schawe ye a'! HYE HEL:

EFTWYRD-GEWILL OND ÆLÍFES GEWIDERE, 
MĪN HEOFONFYRE WÆPENÞRACU! 
NU LÍGETSLIEHTUM SĒ ÞEGN, 
SWĀ STÍELE ĒACEN SĒ ŌFER-MANN,

Frae th' Bygane ays allwayis a Blank intae th' Gore dabbed, 
Towardis th' Future ays allwayis a Dangerus Landis! 
Whare th' cowardly enemies allwayis lurk an' await:

BEADOLEÓMAN UNWEORÐE!

Th' same wae TH' WYLLE TAE TH' HYE OVERMAN waes! 
Richte Nowe! Thais Steel-Titan Micht afore mine eyes
O'er th' corpses o' th' fallen an' intae th' Core-Fyre Sacrificial
Thad HYS SOLAR SCYLD held hye! stylle receivin' IT waes:

AHWÆR OND BALDLICE, 
EFT HEAÐUSIGLES ÁNWÍG,

Fore willin' th' Bygane ays IT haes bin in th' Overman Hye! 
Th' future ays empowered in HYS Feudal Person waes tae, 
Fore Willin' waes, IT! willin' th' Person o' Overman alone! 
Lyke a Verra Destination Tangible o' mine, IT! 
Intae thais Colossus o' Battle-Gore boilin' ays Cast Steel, Thad Wylle!

ÞYRSUM HEAÐUWÆD,

Thad th' Rational Firey Ah say, Continuum o' Lowes waes IT haudin! 
Wpon th' Scyld o'er an' o'er Flashin' IT, hynne Steel-Crucial! 
Increasin' IT! ITS Force Micht an' the Ray! tae th' Endless Skye! 
An' th' Frame! Th' Verra Noble Frame IRONCLAD-FEUDAL!

AD ALTA SIDERA INVICTO METALLO
NUPER SUPREMUM ARTIFICIUM BELLI
FLAMMISQUE CORPUS EXTRAMUNDANUM
QUOD GEWILL OVERMAN NUNC NOMINATUR
ERIT FERRO MAGNO SANGUINEQUE ET SCUTO
IN PROELIO APUD CAMPUM CARHAM
RUBRA VEXILLA REDITUS IGNEA SPIRAQUE
INVICTO METALLO VOLUNTAS MEA,

Fore, ageyne! Beguid Great, Great Orrah! 
Th' willin' Ane Thynge waes! wae Thais Steel-Titan O'erhuman! 
Thad GEWILL OVERMAN o'er Carham's Gory Landis waes IT called Auld:

SWEOLUNGA OND ÆLINGUM SWIÞE SWĀ! 
ÞÆR MĪN GLOWENDE-ÆDREGEARD ĀRĀS,

Fore, ageyne! Great Glamis' Wae Orrah! 
Willin' backiewards th' Bygane ays IT allwayis in Gore haes bin, 
Waes IT! willin'th' Overman ays nae laanger a Blank an' a War-Cauld:

HEÁFODWYLME OND SWEOLOÐAN HLEO!

Fore, ageyne! Þunores Fair an' Wounded Orrah! 
Willin' th' Bygane ays Want o' Pow'r waes willin' th' future ays Pow'r, 
Intae th' Verra Steel-Person o' Thais O'erhuman Steel-Avenger untold:

SĒ ĪSERN-HEREWÆÐA,

Fore, ageyne! Dagur's Guid Orrah o' mine! 
Willin' backiewards intae th' Tyme Irreversible, hynne unco Unforgivin' IT! 
Waes IT! willin' th' future ays Skye-Empowered nowe! 
Intae th' Person o' th' Overman Thais Steel-Titan o'er th' Scyld-Wa Micht, 
Thro' th' Spiral-Continuum thad Becomin' ays Increase in Pow'r waes: 

TH' SEL-RETURNIN' RAY CONDENSATIN' FYRE-JOYFUL:
FULLMÆGENES BRYNELEÓMA,
WPON TH' COLOSSAL SCYLD HELD IT, wae th' arm VERRA HYE! 

Fore ageyne! Devastatin' frae Cauld Thule Orrah! 
Th' bygane intae th' Airn-Person o' th' Overman ays IT haes bin! 
Must be IT willed! Fore thus different IT shall agyne be! 
Ays empow'red intae th' Central an' unco Firey-Abysmal IT, 
An' wae Rid Lowes hynne Rid! Return o' Pow'r Event:

BÆLÞRACE WUDUROSE!

Firm Thynge! an' Verra Core wi'in continual Becomin' ays Pow'r, 
Fore, ageyne! Thoosan Thundirs' Skye-Orrah! 
Tae affirm Lyife tae affirm th' OVERMAN nesisarie IT waes! 
Ays Wylle Superior, hynne True Wylle IT provin'! 
Ma Final Inner Strength! Ma Ultimate Inner Vision!

ÞUNORUM OND BEADWE GRYRELÉOÐE, 
MĪN WIGSIGOR-GESIHÐNES HLÍFEDE!

Thad ainlie Thais Steel-Jǫtunn o' War cannae, wi'in Battle-Lowes Hye! 
Across Auld Carham's Colorful, verra Colorful Scyld Wa Micht nae be! 

BREIÐØX-DRENGR ÆN ATGANGA!

Frae th' Past allwayis bleedin'! intae th' Future allwayis Dangerus! 
An' nae for a' wi'in th' Great Spiral o' Strife, o'er th' Battlefield
Ah nowe stylle see, Thais Steel-Spirit unco waes!

ÁGLÆCAN WUNDORSÉON, HĀL! 
NU MĪN FEORHBOLD BRǢDEÞ SWIÞE, 
RANDWÍGA WÆS IC! SĒ BISENE WRECEND! 
SWURD ON HANDA! HEORU-DRĒORE NACOD! 
HILDE-GRĪMAN! RÝNE STÍELE OND CRÆFTUM
BEADU WÆPEN, BRYNEWELMES STÁNTORR, 
HEAÐUWYLME OND STIELE SWĀ, 
GEWILL ÆT SĒ ŌFER-MANN HÂTEN,

Þenne, och! Great Guid Orrah! Tae nae mere War-Legend nowe fullefylle! 
Let mee ma Vision lastly recollect! THRIE SKYE-GLOBES O' SKYE-FYRE Fwlle! 
Tae ma Battle-Scarred Sight appeared out-owre th' Conquerin' Sunne! 
Intimately blended Thay A'! intae Thais Soarin' Metal-Fusion Gleamin' stylle: 
TH' OVERMAN! AN' TH' BEIN' AYS POW'R, unco Magnificent Thynge! 
AN' TH' RETURN AYS INCREASE IN POW'R! a Reingȝe formin' o'er yondir Hylle! 
Flashin' A' Thay! wae Thais STEEL-TITAN ays hynne ma Verra Guid Battle-Wylle!

GEGYLDEN HRINCG GEWILLE!

I read a beautiful poem once by a poet named Mary Oliver
(My uncle will tear out pages of The New Yorker sometimes and keep them in a box  the way some people of a certain age do)
called The Poet With His Face in His Hands.

“You want to cry out for your mistakes,” she says rightly and wisely, “But to tell the truth the world doesn’t need any more of that sound.”

Mary Oliver tells me (she has my attention now, she speaks directly to me, my face in my hands) that if I’m going to do it anyway, that I should travel far away from civilization where I won’t bug anyone, a noisy place, like a waterfall or the Internet, where I can scream unheard, a tree falling in the forest. Where I can “drip with despair” unobserved by nature her very self.

Mary Oliver doesn’t want to hear it.

So I go.
I take my hiking boots and my entire supply of shame, guilt, rage, doubt,
Fear
I slip it all into a secret compartment just behind my ribs
And we set off together past the city limits to the wastes.
They’re crushing me, the wretched fruit of my faulty design. Too heavy to go on tonight.

I quietly wish Mary Oliver had never been featured in The New Yorker where my uncle would find her, where she would mildly wait for me to crash into her on my world tour of destruction.
I wonder into my dinner
(beans, like cowboys)
if Mary Oliver ever trekked to the waterfall, if I’ll find her there,
an etching, a manifesto.
I imagine myself stepping through, somber, monk-like, and Mary Oliver’s glowing apparition slowly gathering before me.
“You’re so cool and smart,” her energy-being murmurs,
and I wake up feeling important.

Cleveland is so grey in the winter,
my grandmother’s favorite color,
like that song.
The morning sky rides my shoulders and I feel deliciously tragic,
a broken-hearted pioneer woman, maybe, escaping into the wilderness to mourn the loss of her baby…****, too sad.

…to mourn the loss of her old mule Hank, and to find herself among the…
I look around. Generic Cleveland Trees. ****.
I wish I knew about local foliage,
everyone is impressed by a person who is At One With Nature.
I would know if I were a tragic yet somehow glowing from within pioneer woman. Head down, wondering how it can be 53 degrees on December 10th and trying not to think about the polar bears.
I soldier on.

Mary Oliver recommends traveling 40 fields and 40 dark inclines of rocks and water.
(A sweeping arial shot of me traversing the expanse, majestic hair blowing behind like Vigo Mortenssen at Helm’s Deep).

Beans again, like cowboys.

I feel good tired and wonder where a person finds quality poetic landscape like 40 fields and 40 dark inclines of rocks and water.

I didn’t really think this through.

An itch, a burn behind my ribs,
like stars,
like cravings.

A peek.

Just one! Just one, Mary Oliver,
just a ****,
they’ve been in there for days with so little attention.

No one answers, inevitably.
No one’s there, just me, always just me, alone with all of my worst days in the dark in the woods.  

Just one peek.

I wake up and its bright as hell.
What the ****.
What is the point of trees if they don’t dramatically block out the sun at your lowest moment?
The sun.
I squint and automatically say a little thank you,
the sun is so rare in the winter.
A ritual in the cold light.

I flash in, awash with readiness
It’s sudden
Something is coming or something was here but my stomach hollows out like a fake-out gut punch

Was here
Something was here, last night, it’s surrounding me on all sides
Yes that’s right, I remember and Im sorry for the remembering because I’m creative
and before I can stop myself
I’m swallowed whole into the darkness
Just like I wanted.

It’s a struggle,
The swirling absence of light from last nights indulgent, masochistic self-harm parade has expanded like smoke to fill the third space of my body. I am 2 dimensional, a 3rd grade drawing of a person, flat and scribbley, a poor representation.

They always come back.
Sure as eggs.
Sure as taxes.
The greatest hits, everyone was there,
Ripe and healthy,
My well tended heirloom misery, dismal in the garden and aching to stretch its creeping vines.
A vessel to feed on, a disciple,
Bleeding on the alter of self sacrifice, oh happy dagger, ecstatic drag over the open mouths of those cherry coals. Faithless and perfect. Crimson crisp is a broken spirit,
Brittle like nails, and sleep, and ego.

My friends, too, wars within wars. Pale and desperate. Trauma-bonded and aging faster than their parents did, who bought a house, who had three kids, who saved for college. Wars within wars. Shame, guilt, rage, doubt, fear. Pain. So much pain.

I’m lost.
I’m lost in the ******* woods and this poison smoke so black so black it’s in my eyes burning my throat my lungs swirling now sure as eggs sure as taxes I repent I release my will please it’s crushing me I can’t make it Mary Oliver, you shining city on the hill, where are you, Im losing, Im alone, alone, no one knows
Not a cowboy, or a pioneer, or a ranger, or a monk in a waterfall cave.

I’m a poet with my ****** face in my hands.
I’M THE POET WITH MY FACE IN MY HANDS AND I WILL NOT FEAR CRYING ALOUD FOR MY MISTAKES.

They come then. Every one of them, as I knew they would, just outside the gate and waiting ravenously  
My endless flaws  
Powerful and obstinate in their glaring humanity
The constellations of hurt snaking from the roots of my well kept garden
Barbed and bound to everyone I ever loved. The horned monsters of unresolved trauma and the ego machine

Deafening static roar, mechanical swarm of devouring plague locusts
descending upon the 40 fields
Oh here, oh now
In the dark of course
Where else but the smoking vessel of my brokenness
I want to laugh at myself for constructing a cliche within my own self reckoning
Choking on my own toxic exhaust and crying  and choking
This is hysteria, I think
Blurred and muffled on the edge of the hole, a ******* slurring descent, it’s there if I want it
I could dive in and

Mary Oliver.

What is happening,
What the ****, Mary Oliver?
Of whom I’ve never seen a photo,
who is crowning now from the bubbling tar pit, who has chosen this  moment to reveal herself, a nice touch.
She rises from the epicenter of my chaos
Like a blinding beacon of holographic light
(Again I check in with myself that it’s weird she is holographic, why is she made of rainbows)
Beautiful and terrible and 10000 feet high
My mighty dragon. What an entrance.

I laugh again, of course Rainbow Bright  is my big bad, how did I not see this coming, the final girl against the final girl, myself against my greatest self betrayal
She is me
She is arbitrary denial
She is suppression and avoidance
She is vying for approval
For attention
Validation
Every embarrassing moment and every unbidden 3am attack of self loathing.  
Shame and guilt and doubt and rage and fear.
She is my pain, this awful manifestation, this truly depressing personification of all of my absolute *******…

MARY OLIVER I AM THE POET WITH MY HEAD IN MY HANDS

Blink

Blink blink

She turns and sweeps down
And grabs me tightly, ****, oh god you have a nest dont you?

Through the air and I’m wet and dripping and…
is this a cave?

An etching, I have to find something
Something
A manifesto
I desperately search and my teapot is boiling, boiling, boiling over

And there behind that jubilation and water fun
I find no trace of Mary Oliver, who is me and I am her

There in that moment when nothing has been gained and my body begins to release from its own tension and collapse into itself from exhaustion and despair
I notice the air
Fresh and cool and fragrant and something else too
My dragon, far from slain, squirming a little inside me, feeling prodded and suspicious of this quenching.
At least we had this moment
Oh it’s you
Oh god it’s me

And finally then,
I throw my head back

And wail.

The rose in front of me
often seems like is
the cherry picked one
treasured in the most epic hunt.

Down the blue sky
the clouds get clear over time
and the truth shows up:
It’s no invention.
A made in heaven pair found on Earth!

Now Ritacene had too, followers, who would go on and build Raxon around her and her fields
Lady of Order, she bore twins- Abreh and Esseneh, sons which would assist in making animals
Abreh thought of animals and how the would work- their cycles, families, species, and yields
Esseneh felt of them and how they run, gallop, breed-  all the fish, birds, reptiles and mammals
One day, while visiting their aunt Phalgacene in her realm Phaxon, she gave them a challenge
‘Work as one, and as one you may work- make me, your aunt, a perfect and splendid animal’

Abreh, who took the challenge with most seriousness, thought of perfection in the form of life
He thought of arms and hands that create like Palcion, yet can destroy like that of Retisbon
And so of legs, chest, and a mind that though like him- so much so, Abreh became a brain
Esseneh, who took the challenge with most seriousness, felt of perfection in the form of life
He thought of an animal who can love like Lady Abro and forget like King Chazan of the sky
And so of heart, emotion, lust, greed, and want- so much so, Esseneh would become a heart

Phalgacene looked unto his two nephews and was shocked, worried, disgusted, and scared.
Shocked to see the mind of Abreh in its truest form, and so the the heart of Esseneh as well
Worried that in this most vulnerable state, the two would be injured yet immortal, forever in pain
Disgusted for Abreh’s thoughts and ideas gained movement, and Esseneh bled all over her
And scared that if Ritacene where to see her sons, she would be forlorn and upset for them
When the Lady of Order feels forlorn and upset, her fields dry out- the Malzaphaiatan riot

When the Lady of Order weeps and is cast down- the Zapharagaz are startled and stampede
In these the earth quakes and shakes mountains, and the sea torrents and kills countless
For though Phalgacene is the Lady of Chaos, Ritacene is the Lady of Order- disorder is chaos
For when Ritacene is angered, her sister comes to calm her, and brings her chaos to her order
When Ritacene is sad, he sisters comes to console her, and brings her war to her peacefulness
When Ritacene is sad and refuses to eat, Phalgacene comes to feed her- which starves many

The Two Ladies’ sororal love for eachother sing a song of nature and its harmonies and rhythm
When the Lady of Chaos seethes, spears grow like grain from backs of Malzaphaiatan herds
And the Zapharagaz dock and sail her navy unto the walls of nations- beating their stone down
As Phalgacene seethes, Ritacene comes to reason with her- and brings diplomacy to her wars
When Phalgacene hunts down other spirits, her sister stops her, and saves slaves from hunters
When Phalgacene speaks of destruction, her sister eases her, and delivers men from calamity

And so as to not dip a world in its infancy still- so delicate, so new, and so innocent- in chaos
Phalagacene sought to save the brain of Abreh and heart of Esseneh from eternal anguish
In her forge in which she used to cast the molds of her spears, swords, maces, and dirks-
She waxed its walls, heated its molds, and poured blessed bronze into its cavities hollowed
The mold she made to the designs of Abreh and Esseneh- who spoke of them so frequently
That the words had carved themselves into the walls of her court like instructions to follow

She planned to take the brain of Abreh and set it on the perfect bronze head to save it and him
She planned the heart of Esseneh to go to the perfect bronze chest to save both it and him
The bronze lay liquid and she left for it to set. She took Abreh and Esseneh- brain and the heart
She put them within jars of jeweled glass filled with water from the stream of Palcion, the Infinite
The stream from which Palcion uses to moisten the clay from which he molds all things from-
This water from the stream protected the Brain of Abreh and the Heart of Esseneh from pain

Meanwhile, in Ayar, Da’raan- King of Demons, first of the Great Demons, was much debauched
Trapped within the realm of the nothing of nothings in their fortress in the acid lake of Mizharyan
Da’raan and his legionnaires, the Bahalzaryan- pass the centuries brewing wine from acid water
They brew the rust that is shaved from their spears and ferments it in the waters of Mizharyan
From this, a wine that can burn through ones entrails is made, and is strong enough for Da’raan
Forlorn with Phalgacene’s rejection, he throws all the spears in Mizharyan and brews them all

Old spears and new ones sink to the bottom of the acid lake- its acid rusting them all to nothing
And in the span of a day, lake Mizharyan has fermented completely into the strong acid wine
Da’raan, in his sadness, sings of his woes and worries and hearteach to Lady Phalgacene
‘You trusted me with your best men, o Lady of Chaos. And in war, your life was to me as mine.
Foolish of me to think you thought of me more- merely one below your command and sword
I desire not only for you- but for your pride in me. Foolish men rarely gladen without good wine’

And so Da’raan drank the entirety of lake Mizharyan, which at this point was no more than wine
As the banks and bottom revealed itself, a spear unrusted stuck from the ground below them
One of the Bahalzaryan descended to it and to retrieve the spear, which was Da’raan’s spear
When it was dislodged from the ground, it revealed a spring that sprung and refilled Mizharyan
Da’raan wanted to mine iron to rust and make more wine, but the Bahalzaryan stopped him.
‘My Lord, you are in drunken haze- walk off your stupor and allow Mizharyan to heal its banks’

Da’raan , with the fair Phalgacene in mind, wandered out of the realm of Ayar much aroused
His face reddened and his clothes grew tight- Palcion distracted and Retisbon who was blind
Did not notice the Demon King walk drunkenly out of Ayar and into Phaxon- chaos’ domain
He wandered into her court, unseen to her true legionnaires due to the stench of acid wine
There he found Phalgacene casting a body of bronze for her nephews, Abreh and Esseneh
She was unaware of da’raan’s presence, for she blessed the bronze that set in the molds

Da’raan called for her and expressed his love ‘Lay with me, Lady of Chaos! Bear me a son!’
‘Da’raan! Heresiarch and King of Demons! Do you remember not? You are exiled from Phaxon!’
‘Lady of Chaos, I desire your pride in me! Leave me barren, but I will leave thee not, o love!’
‘I shall **** thee, Da’raan!’ Da’raan, thoroughly drunk, mistook her threat for an invitation to lay
The drunken King of Demons disrobed, and Phalgacene who has not seen men, stepped back
It seemed Da’raan had unsheathed a monstrous spear. Defenseless, she thought to evade him

In her pursuit, Da’raan leaped and ******* into the liquid bronze as it set and hardened.
Still in drunken stupor, the Demon King could not pursue Phalgacene any longer and fell asleep
The bronze body hardened, and the sleeping Da’raan was escorted out of Phaxon, back to Ayar
Phalgacene, ignorant of the new addition, assembled the body and  put Abreh and Esseneh in
The new being was twice as immortal as Abreh and Esseneh as was known as Abresseneh
He returned to ritacene, who loved his new son more than her old twins, and thanked Chaos

Abresseneh then created a new animal- man and woman. He would create them all in sets.
He made them in sets, for as twins he was created, and in his image were these animals made
Though these sets were not bound by anything, not even by family, blood, or name- poor things
And so man and woman are cursed to find the other, wed them, and complete the divine set
Descendants of three gods- Ritacene, Phalgacene, and Da’raan- humanity has this ultimatum
Mighty like Phalgacene, humanity may use his might to serve Ritatcene or serve Da’raan

Though humans are true descendants of Ritacene, their bodies are of Da’raan’s tainted lineage
In this, man’s conscience and morality pulls him to the Lady of order, their true mother Ritacene
Also in this, man’s body, desires, and vices pulls him to the Demon King, corruptor Da’raan
And so my students- Barzan, Valkar, and Homet- behold the story of mankind and his origin
Our creator father Abresseneh, son of Ritacene, Phalgacene, and Da’raan- calls us all by name
Do we use the strength of Chaos within us to serve Order or Evil? Preach this as you write of it.