The Sun Worshippers
there once was a village where the sun worshippers lived. backed then, the sun shone even brighter and hotter than it did today. every day the sun worshippers would take offerings to the altar of the sun god, get on hands and knees, and pray to him. they would spare no expense when it came to their worship. enough food was brought to the temple to feed all the gods and there was enough surplus even to feed gods from other religions.
the sun god was happy. he knew the worshippers loved him, and he loved them. but soon he found the worshipper's love was conditional.
one day the sun turned cold. the worshippers, not understanding where the divine heat had gone, became confused, then angry. how could the sun god, who'd they'd spent so much time believing in, give up on them like they were mere specs of sand on a vast beach? they rose from the floor of the temple, their robes billowing about, and looked around. there was too much food for such a cruel, uncaring, fickle god. they took the food away and desecrated the temple. the altar was smashed, the stone cracked.
the people in their rage and sorrow attracted the attention of demons. floods ravaged the town. their buildings burned, their people drowned. without the loving heat from the sun, their crops stopped growing- their animals died, but this only seemed to anger them further, for the sun only seemed to becoming colder. eventually, they tore the temple to the ground and spat on the remains. the few still alive left the village, their robes tearing in the strong wind as snowflakes began to fall.
thus was the end of the sun worshippers.
but it was not the end of the sun god.
millennia later, an archaeologist came upon the desecrated temple, wondering how such a community could have destroyed their place of worship from which their entire lives seemed to revolve around. nearby, under an ancient dried up river bed, he found a mural beneath the dusty sediment. it was in such perfect condition that he almost felt like he was meant to find the stories it depicted. looking further, he found the answer to his previous question- the sun worshippers had turned their back on their god, had become vicious, because the sun stopped shining warm. as he dusted away more of the dirt, however, the story continued and he found out why the sun had gone cold.
long ago in that far away time, the sun had lost its dearest moon. in such dismay and sorrow at the loss, it curled upon itself, unable to support anything but itself. when the offerings from the people he loved stopped coming, and the temple where his heart lied was demolished, he only grew colder, eventually uncaring about what happened to his previous worshippers. the saddest part of all, however, was what was inscribed at the bottom. but alas, the archaeologist couldn't read the ancient language. so he carefully dug up the mural, piece by piece, and sent it away to a museum where the story sat for decades more.
eventually, a very smart scholar came across the mural and, in a moment of surprise, realized she could read the inscription perfectly. it spoke of how, when the sun god needed his worshippers most, they had turned on him completely. how if they had just kept worshipping, kept offering, the sun would have heated up once more. but because they were selfish, believing the sun should shine for them, they were blind. they didn't see that the moon had disappeared and how much it had affected their beloved god that they had once worshipped so lovingly.
realizing no one would believe her if she spoke of what she had read, she kept it to herself, wondering how the sun had gotten warm again. as she left the museum, the concrete fountain out front caught her eye. in the rainbow mist that the water spray cast, she saw a vision. in that vision, she saw the people in their torn robes leaving a desecrated temple during a blizzard. the scene flickered and changed and she saw that it now depicted a different village, with their own set of sun worshippers. then another, and another.
it dawned on her that, while the sun had lost one facet of its support, it had other villages full of villagers that hadn't turned their back on him. they saw that the sun god had been in pain and instead of casting a scornful look upon him, had worshiped more and offered more bountiful food. with their help, the sun slowly began to shine again, becoming ever warmer...
but it never was as bright or as hot as it had once been before it lost its beloved moon.
the water is rushing
i struggle to stay afloat
slipping and clawing at water-worn rocks
people watch me struggle
but they only comment on
the art i make with the droplets
the way my body moves as i gasp for air
i choke and they take it for a song
i give it to them even though
i’m running out of air
even all these years later i think about you every day
i used to believe we’d meet again one day but now i’m not sure i even want that
what did i mean to you?
am i something different now?
or do i mean nothing?
how can i think of you all the time
when i don’t even cross your mind
these words are bullshit
that i know,
i fucked up.
and for that
i will be eternally sorry
The scent of each cherry blossom petal
Feels and smells like bliss
Reflection of the night sky
On the glassy surface below
Disrupted as a flower
Drifts onto the surface
In perfect symmetry
Your breath, sweet, warm
Ruffles the hair above my ear
The back of your hand
Brushes against my cheek
And I know.
But then the ripples
Become waves and the flowers
Lose their scent
I sink below the water and soon find
It was never a pond to begin with
I wanted you to be my first everything- and in some ways you were. But really, you became my last. That's the way I'll always remember you. Like newly fallen snow, I soon became muddied and lost my purity. But maybe you can't lose something you never really had. Maybe no one is ever truly pure.
You Can’t Have Everything
I’ve ran out of ways to describe how you make me feel. And yet,
I haven’t even begun to graze the surface
I feel you in the wind and I feel you in the chilly afternoon air
I hear you in Netflix series and in The Beatles songs
I think about you every day, in the morning and the night
The second I wake up to the second I’ve fallen asleep
Even sometimes, my dreams.
You’re nothing tangible anymore.
Nothing more than a whispy lavender nostalgia.
I’m over you
And everything that happened
Most of the time
But every now and again,
You poison my thoughts
And lash your talons into my heart
It’s been a year since we last talked
It hurts to think of all the changes I wasn’t there to witness
Do you have a girlfriend now?
Is it Grace?
I hope so.
You two were good together.
Where are you going to college?
Are you staying in state, or escaping like you wanted to?
What are you studying?
How are your goats? Your cats?
Damn. I can’t even remember their names.
I dream that one day
You ring me up
To bandage the wounds you caused me
But I want you to know
That I know now
You had your own bullet wounds to treat
It wasn’t the right time,
But I believe we are the right two.
Maybe not lovers, like I wanted,
But just friends.
I don’t know.
After the wounds have scabbed over
And there’s nothing left but discolored scars
You’ll contact me.
Maybe then it will be the right time.