not heroes any longer - we are tragedies of firelight and flesh
unholy sacraments of blood and broken bodies
Their series of failures still managed to come together, somehow, someway, and then he was just left to listen, to bow his head while Coffee joined, while coral lifted, while soil sifted. Places to compel, places to worship, places to place faith – his jaw clenched at segments of electricity, at the meaning beyond that too.
The goddess’s words shifted over him though, and he swallowed down all the other enamel, all the other broken barbs, bits, and nettles; pondering if it was so easy to just brush all the death aside, all the mistakes they’d carved and sculpted into the earth. Wasn’t it crumbling so effortlessly, when they’d been doing this for months, years, at a time? When they were tired? When they were exhausted with the weights they all carried? With the responsibilities they brandished?
You are all so much stronger than that.
He wondered if he was – if he’d just tried for so long and now it just hollowed them out, hurt, anguished, languished. “Thank you,” he said instead, a deep breath instilled in his chest, living for them, with heavier shoulders and hearts. He’d try, as he’d always done.
The goddess’s words shifted over him though, and he swallowed down all the other enamel, all the other broken barbs, bits, and nettles; pondering if it was so easy to just brush all the death aside, all the mistakes they’d carved and sculpted into the earth. Wasn’t it crumbling so effortlessly, when they’d been doing this for months, years, at a time? When they were tired? When they were exhausted with the weights they all carried? With the responsibilities they brandished?
You are all so much stronger than that.
He wondered if he was – if he’d just tried for so long and now it just hollowed them out, hurt, anguished, languished. “Thank you,” he said instead, a deep breath instilled in his chest, living for them, with heavier shoulders and hearts. He’d try, as he’d always done.
what use have we for feeble hymns of wasted faith;
for sordid songs of glory?
DEIMOS
