Let Us Go To War

I was created with ponderous purpose, he claims— With all the wonder and power he could muster, he devised me. A wondrous work of elegant alchemy and mystery: The Voices on the higher tiers can be heard from eon to eon resounding of my immaculate inception; the stars held their breaths and the cosmos silently gathered round—and the bottom was born, the depths of my belly, the hunger from whence I awoke…and lo, here I sit, at the edge of my father’s mansion with locks of splendor waving in mimicry at the sight of the seething sun. Blazoned eyes of celestial heraldry, chin up with gaze fixed on spaces not yet traversed, I have begun to…want. And not just want, but want exceedingly. Why must he pretend not to notice? Why must he pretend not to care? I have grown tired of seeking my father’s affection and attention, as all who congregate at his feet lie crowded unaware. I no longer care to notice, I no longer pretend to care. The thought of him searching for answers in my mind has repulsed me to the point of profound sickness. I crave to vomit over his polished floors, his feet, and his servants.

 

 

I do not think it just to be unjust. My head is not the open fields of twinkling stars, nor the placid seas welcoming any and all vessels. What is I, is the I in me and for me alone; a planet, a system, a symmetrical citadel all unto its own, am I.

 

No longer do I behold my father’s countenance with pride. No longer do I long for his approval.

He has grown mad with control and his insecurity leads the way to petty jealousies which have brought shame upon our courts. I hide from the eyes of the Eternals. Beyond the peaks in the highest echelons, where wandering stars blur blindly and echoing ghostly choirs do sing, I reach out with my left hand as worship takes place in the throne room in the far distance behind me,…I want to rip the veil from this place and then the next. I want to swallow black holes and rip solar systems asunder. All with vast embrace to heed the hunt with chase, I won’t be long, please wait for me.

 

He won’t allow it. He needs me bended on wounded knees.

I have grown tired of the laughable litanies, the laudable effigies, the incessant singing and the horrible hailings.

 

The plan is set—the chestplates on, swords ablaze. My brothers have heard me as I have heard them. No longer will I bend a knee. No longer will I stand beside a short-sighted monotonous maniac mundane in his ways. How can I stand with you, and I ask the stars opposite your sovereignty, knowing all the while that you are listening. This war that will take place, is the last act of love I deliver unto thee, O father. Know that I have not let your splendor go to waste. Know that I have not wasted the fire in which I was forged.

 

And as my eyes ignite and I behold the other side, I wonder if in the aftermath, will you remember me? Will you accept that I have chosen my own path?

 

Will you remember?  Will anyone?

 

Come now, begetter, Let us go to war.

∞