Hurt so Good

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

The instances with deities sounded familiar, similar, the twist and turn of their fabrications, their powers, churning into those honored, worthy, or deserving of the enchantments. Menders, soothing the ridiculous amount of battle lacerations and wounds, leaving the scars to settle into place, engineers, crafting and honing things no one would be able to conduct normally, and their Haruspexes, peering into mirrors, into glass, hoping for a sign from the celestial being that wove their way across their earth. The gods had been haughty, moody, mercurial, tempestuous things too – a genesis to his irreverence and indifference towards them, staring into the damned reflecting glass and listening, or being ultimately ignored. He’d had no need of them, other than the way they preserved their lands. They’d apparently had no need of him either; no matter how often he defended, scorched, and bloodied the plains in the name of their sovereignty. His eyes wandered over the targets once more, and he pondered over grabbing hold of another weapon, of throwing or thrusting it between a goal’s eyes just to hone in precision, just to pretend, for an instant, it was Confutatis’ malicious sneer or Gull’s antagonistic, smug, superior face. “Yes,” he finally answered Jigano, after a space of silence and rumination, a shrug or two, undulating shoulders and muscles, the past billowing around him, unfolding like rampant ghosts, and he started trying to fumble them away, pile them back into their spectral, gnarled lacquer. “The Aurora Basin’s was the God of the Spark. He also controlled time.” For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate