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.