the mortals have found a new god.
our strength is wavering,
flickering,
soon to be extinguished.
like a forgotten match,
left to burn.
our souls ignite into an uncontrollable fire.
ruined temples and desecrated graves.
destruction follows them,
like flames licking at the remnants of an old age
as the ash settles around us.
burn them all.

lightning flashes and thunder roars.
people scatter like livestock.
it’s hard to forget who rules the sky.

waves reach their crescendo
and crash onto the rocks by the beach.
it’s hard to forget who rules the sea.

the riverman guides souls across styx for a price.
weeping souls and anguished cries.
it’s hard to forget who rules the underworld.

the songs will remember you
as the ****** huntress
what the songs forget is that you were so much more

protector of young girls with their heads in the clouds
and hope in their eyes,
daughter of wolves and thunder

you were stripped bare and
the only thing that marked you
as important, was the name of your father

the only thing that they remembered
was the state of your maidenhood
no one warned you how their eyes would linger

and darken in lust,
untouchable, forbidden fruit
because that’s all they thought you were worth

you were three years old
when you refused to be reduced
to a state of being

you were three years old
when you refused to let
any man take what was yours

you were three years old
when you decided
you were to rule the mountains

you proved them wrong