(What happens when love is hijacked and falls apart?)
Were you not the one who anointed me with
sacred unction, way back then in a time-space
when the absolute real love and light was all that mattered
and the euphoria was all prevalent! How is it so
languished in oblivion, so far from memory that
none have the courage to even remember it, forget
acknowledge it? I lived to breathe out the spirits of love;
the dimensions were not even calibrated then, yet I
chose January and May to parent me! And who was the
Goddess-priestess? Where must she be placed
in a trove of love so silent and distanced, but should I
decline to make it mine? I have recall, I have truth
in a sincere dishonesty amid the humongous lies
that betrayed me! Must I be a guerilla now, since I
am bereft of my armies? Does Don Quixote have his
Sancho Panza in tow? Is Spain causing him much pain?
I live among a savannah, where the rats are not prairie
rats; but grassland thieves! I am here to maneuver the
minefields (if any of you care to acknowledge), so that none
of your souls are accidentally blown apart. Do you care
for seaborne carnality? Must spirit be made subservient?
I did not rue all the treasures I lost, the civilisations that
I bred that were apocalypsied by the envy of villainous others!
They have the audacity to defraud me to subjugate me!
Even my defeat did not cause me pain; but to possess my own
legacy that relentlessly dares to salvage the ones who
deserve that, from a devouring! Do you know what nurture is?
Or are you all compromised to believe the poisoning is your nurturing?
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