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dj.portner

United States

"A Godly Scorn"

March 15, 2016

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I am
Immortal
You say,
And yet, you know nothing.

Your feeble mind could never grasp
The eternity of my existence.
Your pitiful veil of retention could never
Hold a candle to what I have seen;
To the influence I hold over your world.

Have you seen the birth of time?

Have you peered deep into the darkness--
No--further back
Before there was Darkness.

Before the first rays of light fell upon the atoms of creation,
You met my eyes and the
Abyss stared back.

Back back, down deep--
Delve into the womb of the virgin;
Crack the halo of the Brightest Star.
Can’t you hear your people weep?

I am my own supremacy;

And yet you try to illuminate me.
Define me.
Categorize eons of circumstances into a
Delusion of understanding.

What
Do
You
Know?

With barely a whisper of breath,
I could split open the earth and let out the fires of the land.
Water will turn
to
Blood.

I could unleash the very

Deepest,
Darkest
Pits of
Hell.

Have you ever looked beyond that shine inside the eyes of a child?
Do you remember that boundless energy--those clumsy attempts
Of stammering breaths and shaky knees bending and
Creaking on worn wooden floors.

The trumpet echoes across the stars--
Our walls crumbled into pillars of salt.
Visions of serpents,
Whores as wives,
Pole-drilled skulls…

Did the good book ever mention us?

You will be swallowed whole before
Your pleading lips draw breath.

My fury can make the sea boil over
And the sky split
And the ground shake.

Your very name will be wiped from the
Dust of
Humanity
and
Flesh.

And I will
laugh.

Hands clasped together, wordless prayers;
Tears woven into beads and tomes thrown against the door.
Take and take, and yet there's always something more.

Blood of the purest lambs cannot quench the thirst of this wretched Lazarus.
“Too little, too late,” they cried.
Dogs lick the wounds, and birds feast on flesh;
Surely this is what the Garden meant.

Because,
What is your life
To me?

What is a fleeting whisper to
The roaring sea?

What
Makes
you
Significant
To
Me?

That is the reality of our worlds.

I am the mountain;
You are the flea.

Your world is merely a playground
in an
Eternal
Game

And you were never a player.

A god never dies,
Its people merely survive

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