cosmos

Stars, no stars, no

story without the need for
atonement, no alleyways without the
drunken fathers of sleeping
children.
 

No grace.

 

No forgiveness.

 

The song of empty fields, and of

jawbones.  Animals brought to ground,
covered in blood, blanketed in snow.
Mythology.
 

The continents raised up from the

ocean floor, the oceans on fire.  Filled
with garbage, with poison , with the
bodies of the last dozen holy wars.
 

You win or you lose.

 

Your God ascends or is devoured.

 

All stories end with the

smell of burning flesh.