So said they, tall
and at ease, as the new world
got underway, this time, at last, not a metaphor
for abuse, slavery and rampant homophobic hate.
So said they, as the fall
was avoided, and things were reported
at last. No saviours today but those we meet in ourselves.
In those who finally arrive, however late.
So said they, as nothing stalled,
and the ways were mended, and people who had pretended
were revealed to themselves, at last. Those we met
in themselves. Those who were filled with hate.
So said they, as they became called
to a new time and place, and the cycles that had never ended
were made back into cycles proper, at last. Those that
double-bound themselves, now were free to make
something they said into their own. All of it.
They were made to be whoever they were, and proud of it.
They were made to stand tall, wherever they were, and never let go of it.
There were made for us all, whoever was left to be it.
That person was me, once upon a time. All of it.
And now it is all of you too. It is everyone. The call is indifferent
to whatever you’ve done before. This is a song that never stops.
You are your own saviour now, as I am my own. Nothing more.
So said we all.
So we shall know, once more,
the joys and exuberances of home.
The places where gaietic and non-gaietic alike, can become
what Pythia saw.