through all the verses and earths, He alone is the revered one.
His house resided atop a hill, ages away from the bustling sins of the city. If not for the
blood-stained jewels littering the floors of his house and the rotting corpses serving as
doormats, he could have lived as a human.
Instead, he entered this realm buried under stiff traditions and asphyxiating dragonfly
kimonos. He became tethered to mortality, a human for the time being; when he was
exhumed from the weight of eleven eyes, he altered the universe. He made gravity
surrender before him and commanded the tides of all seven seas; he came to earth and
all the heavens became geocentric, the sun a neglected character and others no longer
paramount.
His eyes were a limitless blue, its gaze ranging deeper than the trenches of Atlantis.
Hitherto, there were echoes of divinity dancing beneath his skin and he diverged into
unsanctioned tendencies of humanity, ethereal yet ephemeral all the same.
it is He who shall be the vessel of our savior and our burdens, so it is I who shall save him.
I swept him away to the flickering vibrancy and flourishing curses of the city, introducing
irresistible sweets to his palette and cackling over flashy arcade games. I showed him
the mountebanks of society, the corruption fluttering around them, the scams they’d
used to fool him, and the secrets they could never unravel from us. I guided him
through shallow streams and watched the hues of his blue eyes scintillate.
The moon was beautiful that night, as we leisured to our proclaimed divinity. The world
trembled in our wake; the stars wept at our union; the heavens scoffed at our contempt.
No man nor spirit could halt us. None would dare to.
We’ll be fine, he said. We’re the strongest.
Every god has a weakness. I was His. Yet I couldn’t save him.
My hand found His while the tensions of our tangency simmered beneath our feet: I
tripped on the burdens of mortality, and He danced alongside the glory of gods. I
couldn’t utter the truths we knew to be undeniable for He had stepped into a sprint,
racing eons ahead with a strength born from centuries before our union.
I bled for him a wish, a blessing for His future:
My gaze meets His from the opposite side of the battlefield; I know and so I mourn, for
he was once beside me. He reaches his hand out, grasping for everything, or anything,
of our past, for something close to a promise––He finds nothing. We’d been pulled out
of constancy and brought into tangency. Now red strings entangle and bind the locks
of my hair to the ends of His kimono as I resign to the futility of fate.
May He nurture each blooming sprout into a cacophony of wildflowers; may He coax the savage life from every creature, leaving only purity behind; may He lay wasted on society to repent for our sins; may He devour His own humanity and coexist with glory itself.
We face each other now, his eyes still a color unbelonging of the world I came from. Yet,
in this scene, the blues of sorrow sink further into his soul than do those of the heavens.
The eyes above decree my death by his human hands––he falters.
I’ll be okay, He whispers. I’m the strongest.
and most of all, may He find solace in that lonely abyss He must call His youth.
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