Do the fates know which way it goes?
In many ways fates is a foe
Those ****** goddesses know
They pick the winners
And the losers
And those they hold in limbo
Everything is predestined
In a particular way
To what unfolds day-to-day
Fighting fate will do no good
Because everything turns out as it should

In the group that I come from, where philosophers comprise. Virtue, ethics and values they wrestle or oblige. One thing is missing and thats the truth in definition. From where philia itself is all about friendship.
Friends in wisdom, hey..it might just be empathy. Compassion hey, its truly a victory.

Whether Sophia or Nikea, it shouldn't really matter. Put them together and the robes will never tatter. Lest apart, were back to the start where this cute mythology loses its heart.

Yo, The Gods and Goddesses are just virtues. Principles of importance marked as divine. Personified and glorified to keep the spirit alive, thats just how they emphasized. Thats just how they empathized.

TW: Rpe, Sucide
.
.
.
.

Dionysus wipes his hands
With a wine dark-cloth,
His bar the confessional booth, for gods and mortals.
The absinthe green of his eyes loosens tongues
until their sins fall from their mouths like snakes and stones,
clattering onto the tarnished marble bar.
The stinking incense of each dog-eared dollar,
sustains him in its foul smoke,
the muttered prayers over empty glasses
chants and cries and pains and joys
Falling over each other like drunken feet,
Weaving themselves into stories
He recounts to Ariadne in the morning
As she folds laundry, and he does the dishes.
The threads of small mortal lives hanging around them untethered.
His patrons check their best at the door, he knows this,
Welcomes it,
He still has the best wine in the city
Even if they ***** it into the storm drain outside.

Asclepius stops in after his 12 hour shift
Eyes haggard
The blood of an attempted suicide on his scrubs,
the pull of a thousand witnessed deaths curled around his hip flexors,
Trying to drag him down with every step.
Still, he moves like a snake through sand,
The soundless strength of his movements
Ripple a wake of quietness, hallowed calm
On the floor they call him gentle giant
Always ask him to work full moons.
Artemis never did like him,
But the mortals are stilled
Under his hands.
Cracked and dry from over-washing
His knuckles bleed when he reaches for his glass.
At home Epione will take them in hers,
Rub lotion into the palms with the pad of her thumb, working her way in concentric circles all the way out, tenderest on the backs of his hands and their maze of scales and interstices,
The strong cherry-tang scent of almonds rising from their fingers.
At work sometimes he will feel the ghost of her touch
Crave it, as the sanitizer and soap smart against his skin,
This is an old intimacy they have always shared—the meeting of fingers, the firm pull of her thumb against palm,
And sometimes the way she traces the faded green lines of the serpent tattoos that twine around his forearms,
The slow caress of her index finger, the tiny scrape of her nail
Until her hand encircles his neck, cradles the serpent’s head
And she leans in to kiss him.
He will go home to her in an hour
When he is warm from the whiskey
And his mind is a little softer,
Some of the blood washed away.
He sighs,
Men are curing men
But they always find new ways to **** others
and themselves.

Athena’s seat is in the back, near the fire escape,
Where the shattered vinyl of the seat
Scrapes her thighs like desert sand.
Steel eyes to the door,
She gulps ***** neat.
After her second deployment, it’s the only thing that stills her hands.
Her pearled teeth gnaw the end of a burned cigarette—
If she chews hard enough,
the tobacco replaces the taste of her staff sergeant’s tongue, his breath, his blood.
Bodies in the dark, the vice-gripped wrists,
She bit, she clawed, she kicked,  
the muscles weakened by so few prayers
the dim fire in her eyes could not muster a single flash,
a flintlock in rain,
and she was another nymph, another Cassandra—
No one believed,
no one believed.
She can still feel Cassandra’s arms locked around her calves,
hear Ajax’s guttural grunts,
she understands now.
But for her there was no temple, no statue,
She tries to cling to herself,
But falls away to dust,
The guttural grunts of the staff sergeant echo as
The memories drag her, screaming, across her bedroom floor
Poseidon cannot drown them,
Only ***** can
And no one believes,
No one
believes.

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.

‘Write this down, and read these out to anyone who will listen- listen to the tale of Phalgacene’
Phalagacene is the twin of Ritacene, both very beautiful, for they resemble one another
Ritacene’s beauty is magnified by her grace, compassion, kindness- around her, cities are built
Phalgacene’s beauty was charismatic. Despite her many sharp teeth, she inspired others
Now the creation of Palcion and the destruction of Retisbon created a process so strong-
That spirits lesser to the gods yet greater or equal to man were born from the friction of the two

These spirits sought power for their place in the world, and like plants, attached themselves-
To kings, to men, to lovers, and to fools. The wiser sought to seek the gods and their power
These spirits sought power for their own power, out of rocks they hewn and trees they felled
Cities of divine magnificence for their object of worship- these cities would soon begin to tower
One of these cities was the realm of the twin of chaos, Phalgacene, to where the end welled
Her followers took up spears and swords, not for war, but to honour her teeth and power

The legions of Phalgacene were fearsome and powerful, and defended her divine city, Phaxon
Among them most obedient, but among them radical, boisterous, full of vice, and most immoral-
The Bahalzaryan, led by Da’raan, courted Lady Chaos, pined to wed her, and bear him a son
She refused, and in this, he was angered, so rose to foolishly threaten a Chaos that is immortal
And so with her meteors with chains spanning all of space called for and faced Da’raan head on
He, with his Bahalzaryan, were defeated and they were banished from Phaxon forever more

Da’raan led his men to Chazan, who for them opened to grant them audience with Retisbon
In the darkness of the primordial court of the Twin Creator and Destroyer, they bowed to latter
And asked ‘Great ratisbon of the Limits, grant us a home, for your daughter has orphaned us!’
And in response, the great on took out his hand and carved a hole into ‘nothing more after’
It was dark and was the nothing of nothings- there he threw the Bahalzaryan in a ******
It was empty, so empty as it was the nothing of all nothings- and so as this hell, forever empty

And so the fate of Da’Raan and his legion of exiled Bahalzaryan- the first of hell’s legionnaires
And their master, the first great demon- Da’raan the Heresiarch, who disobeyed Phalgacene
In the new realm within the nothing of nothings- a hell named Ayar, filled with fire and acid air
Within Ayar, the memory of every battle and war plays out forever in endless strife and misery
Within Ayar, to protect himself and his army, Da’raan built a fortress in the acid lake Mizharyan
And so the tale of Phalgacene and her legions, and Da’raan and his men, the Bahalzaryan

Oh dessert zephyrs- take me, whisk me away from the vice of man and his cities
Take me to the dunes and caves- where I shall sleep on stone and eat locusts and honey
Oh desert zephyrs- fend off the men and who pursue me- for I detest all publicity
Oh desert zephyrs- send my prayers to Lady Abro, and tell her to take me soon and quick
For I took refuge in the heat of Chazan’s hearth- to burn off thoughts of lust and money
Oh desert zephyrs- belay my prayer; they’re here to stay. Bring us then to eat- bread and milk

And o, they say they follow me into the dunes of the Jashad, there are three of them here
The first- offered me his sash and fine clothes. I say that we are here now here to turn away from that
The second- offered himself to me as ganymede. I say we run and from lust to steer clear
The third- his treasure- I valued the most. He offered me his obedience. Night came, and we sat
And as we sat, I told them why I came to Jashad. ‘I came to seek Chazan and his heat’
‘And also Lady Abro and her patience.’ for the day is short and the night is long, very long

For as soon as we have come away from Ritacene, Phalgacene comes and meets us head on
And I dare not stay in the fire of foolish men when the night ends and dies to the fires of dawn
But much is lost in the play of the Twins, for now let me tell you their tale, my dear new friends-
Ritacene is the goddess of all that is order, and her twin Phalgacene, the goddess of all chaos
They mirror their father and uncle- Palcion and Retisbond- he who brings life and he who ends
Retisbon of the Limits cannot bear child- so Palcion bears twins, and gives Phalgacene to him

Palcion’s creations all float at random. And so Ritacene, with her many hands, arranges them all
Retisbon strips them of being, so Phalgacene chews them with her many sharp teeth for death
All that is created was a thought by Palcion, which were then designed by Ritacene’s many hands
All that dies is called to come to Retisbon, and their bodies torn apart by the jaws of Phalgacene
And so, all that Ritacene designs is order, which is a vision of nature and its divine creation
And to resist her designs is a tune of chaos, to which man marches to the jaws of Phalgacene.

As to not upset her sister, Phalgacene swore to swallow those who live and die as she designed
As to not starve her sister, Ritacene gave those who resisted design for her to chew and devour
When men live in peace, we live by the design of Ritacene and so die gently by Phalgacene
But as you see, man has used the designs of Ritacene for crime, greed, lust, power, and evil-
And so, Ritacene shall grow angry and Phalgacene shall grow fat and the darkness will follow
The rhythm of nature will be obscured and war shall overcome- the wrath of the Twin goddesses

Lady Abro and Chazan, the sky King, and their children- the seasons- will take ear of Ritacene
Times will grow dark just like the Sky- Winter and Autumn shall fatten as their siblings grow thin
The darkness and cold shall go one for longer, while summer and spring will never yonder!
Man cannot eat his gems and gold, nor his women and slaves, though he could go on and try!
Man cannot come to his governor, for the coward has fled, with the city’s coffers and food!
Man will **** man for what little is left, and  what little is left for man- a banquet for Phalgacene

‘In the desert, he sit on the lips of Phalgacene. There is already little to begin with, yet some live’
I take a cactus by the hand and break it open for the three- ‘here is our water, and this- our food’
I take a locust and put it in my mouth. ‘Here lies the realm closest to Phalgacene.’ I tell the three
‘Yet in this realm, we are safest- for the food of the twin of chaos will go over our heads’ I said.
‘Go back!’ I tell them. ‘Go and bring back only what I tell you: Your names, papyrus, and reed’
‘We shall jot down the history of the world and all that ever has and will!’ I'll tell them.’

They brought back their names- the three where
Barzan, meaning calligraphy
Valkar, meaning letters
Homet- meaning ‘meaning’
three scribes stood with their master,
Eebrhu, whose name meant language

Palcion and Ratisbon stood amidst eachother forever-
the father of being and the bringer of non-being stood
And as they stood, time and her efforts in vain, they she could not weather
Palcion and Retisbon looked upon the first to move between them
named the consequence of being and unbeing- Abro, meaning passage
Abro could topple walls and reduce mountains, all while light as a feather

Abro was not the mother of peace, nor the maiden of chaos-
The former was Ritacene- daughter of Palcion, whom he named after his brother
The latter was Phalgacene, daughter of Retisbon, who named her after the other
Abro was the steed of Phalgacene, who pulled her chariots and made her spears fly
Abro was also the bull of Ritacene, who plowed her fields and grew her wheat
And when the sisters argued, Abro would sit between them and wait, and stare at the sky

Abro would count the faces of the sky, and found the sky to be beautiful
‘I am Chazan- servant of Palcion and Retisbon,'’ the sky said. ‘I carry the weight of them both”
‘I am Abro- the eldest of the goddesses Ritacene and Phalgacene’ she told him
‘You are such a strong and fair woman,’ Chazan said. ‘To keep your youngers from conflict’
‘I do no such thing’ said Abro. ‘They are twins, and as above, they are as two as they are one’
‘They, like their fathers, are two faces of one disk-’ she went on ‘and so conflict they do not risk’

‘And you Chazan?’ Abro asked him. ‘What of you, and why above all made but below makers?’
‘I am the throne of the creator of creators and destroyer of destroyers’ he said to Abro.
‘I conceal the made from their maker and the maker from what they’ve made’ he went on
‘I hide the destruction from their destroyer- I herald the light of being and death’s shade.’
‘I find you beautiful-’ said Abro. ‘What say you to be my groom? What say you I be your bride?’
And in that, the swords of Phalgacene glowed bright, and Ritacene’s crops began to die

Chazan’s hair began to grow short and loose, and the face of the sky burst into flames
The air began to heat and the sky’s blue began to lighten- Chazan’s skin became like glass
Abro saw Chazan- his skin pink, orange, green, and cerulean- his two eyes, the sun and moon
‘You lie to me, Abro-’ he said aloud. ‘How can you say I'm beautiful when this is what I am?’
‘Everchanging, ever new- I will shed a thousand skins, but you will still be you’ he told Abro.
‘How can you have a husband, whose faces change, and whose memory of you with it fades?’

And so, Abro stood, and faced the sky. Her legs began to grow tired, and so she went away.
Chazan, seeing this, fell into misery. The sky darkened and the the winds blew strong
The fields of Ritacene were reduced to lakes of mud, while rust grew on Phalgacen’s wheels
Chazan was in tears. His hair grew long and wispy and from them- water crashed into the earth
Then Abro returned, with the beast Malzaphaiatan- whom she borrowed from her sisters
Malzaphaiatan was a beast that plowed fields and pulled chariots and on it, Abro sat and waited

Abro’s sisters made more of these beasts, and soon their numbers would become the land
They’re backs fertile and their stampedes would causes quakes, but upon them Abro sat
Abro sat and waited for Chazan to calm down- and upon Malzaphaiatan she would wait
Chazan, upon seeing Abro, lightened and was delighted. “You have returned! I am elated!‘
He ran through the sky and to the ground at such speed, which created lighting and thunder
He ran to hold Abor and lay with her on Malzaphaiatan- and in their bliss was born Spring.

Chazan would soon change face again- and the air began to heat and the sky would lighten
The glow of Phalgacene’s metal and the drooping of Ritacene’s plants all heralded one thing-
“Abro’s lover was angry.” in his rage, he remembered Abro not, and so Abro stood and went.
She borrowed Zapharagaz from her sisters- a steed of of great speed- delicate and deadly
Zapharagaz carried Phalgacene’s navy, and fed the fields and water wheels of Ritacene
Abro drove Zapharagaz across the herds of Malzaphaiatan so that Chazan may drink

Across the backs of the herds, she carved waterways, canals, and cisterns with Zapharagaz
The tracks of Zapharagaz made rivers and from the places it rested, were oceans and lakes
Abro made a chalice from clouds and gave it to her lover Chazan to drink- and he was calmed
This face of Chazan knew Abro not- but found her beautiful. ‘Be my bride, oh Lady of Time!’
‘Be my bride and this entire kingdom of fire and light shall be as yours as it is mine!’
‘I shall be your bride, and you shall be my groom!’ and so they lay together and bore Summer

Chazan would not change face again, and his memory of Abro would persist, yet he was sad.
‘Abro, my love- Queen of the Sky as I am its King; does it not hurt when I forget you at times?’
‘Chazan, my love- King of the sky who made me its queen; I love you and all your faces.’
‘How could you? What if I forget you in those faces? What would become of us and of life?’
‘I will still love you’ she said. ‘And each of your faces, what face may come, will call me its wife’
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, Chazan used the sun and breeze on the land

He took the Clouds away, but stunted the heat of the sun. He dried the leaves of Ritacene-
He put the soldiers of Phalgacene to rest and told them to return to their wives and families
He blew across the sea and into land to create the first wind and waves, and so he began
And so with a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the harvest began and produce came
Upon the backs of the herd- Chazan painted a golden portrait of Abro, and it was beautiful
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the two lay once more and bore Autumn

As Abro awoke, she found her husband away from her embrace. Chazan was not away though.
Chazan could simply not be seen. Droplets of hard, cold water fell on Abro’s hands. They spelt:
‘Who are you? I am Chazan, king of the sky. Who are you, why are you here?’ said the snow.
‘I am Abro, Lady of Time, first daughter of the twin Kings of Creation and Destruction’ she said.
‘I am the eldest child of Palcion and Retisbon. I am the eldest to Ritacene- goddess of order’
‘And of Phalgacene- goddess of chaos.’ she boasted. ‘You are in the presence of the gods’

‘You were drunk, and in your stupor, took me to your bed.’ Abro wanted to know what he’d say.
‘Forgive me! I am king of the sky, but humble servant first to the Twin Kings- how do I repent? ’
‘You shall have to wed me! For we shall both be punished if the Twins find out!’ Abro told him.
Abro, despite her love for Chazan, wanted to be wed. And so, the king of the sky wed her.
Chazan froze the waters for them to walk on and donned the land white in snow- as did Abro
Ordained as husband and wife by the twin gods, Chazan and Abro were wed- and bore Winter.

The children of Chazan and Abro would be the essence of the seasons who played together-
Spring, the fastest and most beautiful of the siblings, ran ahead of her brothers and sisters-
Summer, the strongest but largest, ran behind Spring, but could not catch up to her however
Autumn came next and often called for Winter, and came to soothe Summer of his blisters
Winter- however, walked and did not run. He carried with him coal, which he marked with.
Soon, he would not run at all. He would sit and wait like Abro, and forget to run like Chazan

This is why the Spring is so well loved, yet feels as if it passes too fast and too quickly at times
And why Summer is so hot, yet most of the work must be done under its heat and weather
And why Autumn brings peace, and in its golden banquet bring good food, harvests, and wine
And why Winter and all its snow, darkness, coldness and blight seems to drag on forever
And yet in Winter, the only well that does not freeze over is the well that draws forth black ink
And so the myth of seasons finds its Author in the hands of the cold. Behold- the Song of Winter

In the hearth of all and none,
there stood two-
Who were as one
In the hearth of all and none
There stood two-
who too, where none

Both, like eyes, to a thought not yet thought
The two stood there and were-
And yet at the same time- were not
But one awoke, and in awaking bore thought
And from then on the thought of not,
Was there, and forevermore, all but naught

The other, angered by the thought
Stood and and found his brother awake
And from there the birth of twins
Of blindness and seeing, of knowing and sleeping
He was thought, life, existence and being
He was not, death, nonexistence, nonbeing

And the awoken named himself Palcion, meaning infinite
And from there he ran across the none and brought being
From here to there, he brought what, whos, hows, and wheres
And he named his brother Retisbon, which pertained to limit
And he followed his brother- picking up the things he made and left
All his whats, whos, hows, and wheres- stripping them of being

And then Palcion grew tired, and went to sleep on his brother’s lap,
Retisbon, still awake, guarded his brother in his slumber-
And in his slumber, he stripped all his creations of being
Upon Palcion awakening, Retisbon then grew tired, falling too on his lap
Palcion, then awake, guarded his brother in his slumber-
And in his slumber, he thought to continue to make and make

Retisbon awoke, across his brother now, who then was busy making-
In front of Palcion, all he made, which Retisbon thought of breaking-
He made, he broke- he gave being, and he stripped them of it-
And so the myth of  Palcion the Infinite, and Retisbon of the Limits-
Being made into all, and all soon stripped of being- the first of all natures

And from this came time,
And from that came worlds,
And from there all that will ever be in it.

my eyes are laughing strolling arm in arm
cracking the pavement brimming of vibrations
stories of contentment, despondency
a feeling of being summoned urgently by an invite
gracious and acute
in the company of gods and goddesses
on a patch of green grass
i admit to being without admonition exceedingly happy