To Future Believers
(Redux)
You know some Saint of Gaia could arise in slums and landfills, a sinkhole in each eye. Her mouth would curse for all your starved daughters and she would share your thirst; though not for water. The darkest nights may come, and when they do— draw comfort from no romance of the moon. No matter how they grasp with far-flung ships the rich mistake the stone in Gaia’s grip. Brought low in their belief, their brittle jail, it won’t be for the gentiles that you kneel. Enshrine the cell according to your custom and pray—as I do now—for her to crush them.
This feels both like a melody and like a confession waiting to be written. I loved its darkness and its musicality. It reads as though it is emerging directly from the heart, carrying something both haunting and deeply human.
woah dark but good