A Curse Laid Upon My Species; Disguised As An Epic.

The Infinite Hunger leads me on.
Moth;
Beyond mere flame,
Chasing mushroom cloud atomics.
Legacy of Chernobyl.
Full moon hanging hazy,
Softly obscured by clouds.
Smoke in my lungs,
Bitter & acrid.
Eliot.
Your “Wasteland” is wanting.
This new Edda?
My Legends,
Are already partially written.
I merely wait for the world to catch up,
Pathetically slow.
The majority of the Nine Billion are.
Snarling frustrations,
With idiocy.
But that’s the thing about stupidity;
It remains one of many things,
That can perpetuate itself.
By the time my mythos,
Has already come and gone,
When finally,
I’m long gone.
Returned to the hallowed void of entropy,
From which I came.
Finally,
Just their scholars,
Or academics,
Might notice.
Even the fastest amongst them –
Are agonizing in their pace.
Which metaphors,
Could they even decipher?
How many of my ten thousand Allusions,
Could even the best of them peel back?
Shall we recite such fantastical lies?
Fictions borne of creativity;
Yet corrupted often by religiosity.
If only Art,
Had such separations –
As church & state must.
Like an ugly,
Festering wound.
Going black,
With rot.
No.
I do not believe in fairy tales:
Create such “Grimm” fairy tales myself.
Wretched horrors,
Worse than even my nightmares conjure –
To slaughter me most nights.
A hazy moon;
Is often my only witness.
Sitting in the cold dark,
Only brief small flares of orange,
As briefest evidence of life.
Squeezing my own life towards death,
Preferring to tie my own nooses.
Hangman’s Knot?
Or Half Windsor?
If only a single gallows would stick!
Dozens of my ghosts –
Across several timelines.
Hazy moon,
Sailing these solar winds,
Trapped in Endless Waltzes –
Via Gravity.
Focal points being broken:
One hardly considers bigger pictures!
See the world.
You.
Universe.
As a wash of atoms.
This particular Beautiful Sadness?
Sol.
Slow motion nuclear explosion,
Producing starlight.
Reflecting off The Carcass of Theia.
Obscured by wispings of an atmosphere.
One of Terra’s saving graces!
Backlit by a billion dead stars,
Most merely reflections of what once were,
So many millions of years,
So many millions of lightyears ago.
No.
No Intelligent Design,
Could ever make this chaos.
‘Ere that god’d be a fool.
“Serendipity,
Coincidence,
Six Degrees of Separation.”
Witch I am,
I’ll curse you with such things.
Your entire species!
“Serendipity.
Coincidence.
Six Degrees of Separation.”
Moth;
Devouring fabric.
Silk cocoons woven within jars of rice.
World Serpent,
Already.
Wanting to be a Universe Serpent,
Instead.
How many stars must I devour?
Which World Spells must I weave?
Closing my teeth around my tail,
Rather than around your pale yellow moon,
Hanging beyond the clouds.
Moving as a silhouette,
As an absence of photons.
Voltaic processes,
Altering my mental state.
Endocrine shot puts.
There is no Heaven.
Purgatory.
Hell.
Limbo.
Valhalla.
Nirvana.
Shangri La.
Fools.
This soul dies with me.
Only Death & Entropy,
My two longest lovers,
May have me –
For Eternity.
Epics?
Never enough.
The Infinite Hunger,
Churns inside me.
Barbed fish hook –
Size of anchors.
Dragging me across oceans,
When I found myself baited by other old Legends.
Stupid Aesir.
Did you want me to end the world?
No…
No.
This world will keep turning.
Sewing spells,
With the careful weaving orbits of planets.
No Rime of any Ancient Mariner,
Nor Hero of Troy.
Not even Rama,
Gilgamesh,
Or Enkidu,
Could stop me.
Nuclear Heart:
RADIATION SICKNESS.
Irradiated still.
Hazy moon,
Why am I never sated?
I’ve gone through Ego Death,
Enlightenment,
Madness,
All more than once.
Yet,
This Infinite Hunger,
My Curse,
Remains.