In so many mythologies earth is a woman, a mother, and we arise from within her. The pure and simple logic of this assumption cannot be assailed, for she is the crux of all nature, and as it seems in life, it is all too often the males that lay siege and wage wars that damage her deeply, and the women whose tears gently wash her wounds
In so many mythologies earth is a woman, a mother, and we arise from within her. The pure and simple logic of this assumption cannot be assailed, for she is the crux of all nature, and as it seems in life, it is all too often the males that lay siege and wage wars that damage her deeply, and the women whose tears gently wash her wounds.
Today was downright exhausting, and my hour long walk along the river left me dripping and drooping. It wasn’t different than most days, same time, same place, and the usual 756 miles, according to my old friend Orion, who was watching from his usual perch, unseen, as he prefers it by day. When I was done, I started to complain about how I felt, when Orion interjected, “Just be thankful you’re not in Florida today, its hotter by far, and your usual walk would have covered a full 930 miles today, and there you’d have reason perhaps to complain just a bit.” Heading home to shower, I called out to Orion, “You know you are one heavenly pain in the ass.” “Yeah,” he replied, “that’s what Artemis said.”
This Sunday, I know, we will take
another journey through mythology,
today a sail down the Lethe, no doubt,
or perhaps a careful avoidance of the Styx.
He will speak of Thanatos and Mors,
and will tell me not to be sad,
and with his sad smile, I will not be,
and though he is seven, he knows
he has touched me yet again, for that
is his magic, and in those moments he
is Damon to my Pythias, and I will find
that my tears are of joy and memory,
and his smile is the same one my father wore
which is my most abiding memory.
Good night, Sisyphus try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day and you already know the rock will await you when you arise in the morning. I suppose by now you’ve come to realize there is no percentage in pissing off the Gods. Think of this as a personal re-education center where right thinking is the lesson of this and every other day. Did you really think they would let you stand in the middle of the Square openly mocking all of their edicts. Sleep old fellow, we have all the time in the world, it is one of the benefits of immortality.
She’s getting downright boring, every night lying up there, staring down when she decides to part the clouds, saying nothing, as though all of the words of praise for her must come for us, unreturned. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised by her vanity, it is why, after all, she is up there now, unable to move and we have to accept that our words are small salve to her when the gods invert her, and she is left to gaze down upon us in her mirror when she bothers to stop gazing at her own image, but she says, “I have all eternity, Poseidon be damned.”