Not today. We would not speak about that today. She would only speak about it, when the time felt right and the time never felt right. The time was never right. How can a god, know of time? Like a piece of itself?
I know time, like a piece of myself, she knows time as much as she knows me, completely absorbed in the feeling of what it means to have been connected, to be connected in the strings and salts of its growing change.
I was at a loss.
I was strength and understanding in mundane frames. She had taught me well but we needed more time. I needed more lessons and she would offer no more. That was for time. Feeble-minded persons existed everywhere, but on this planet, the percentage seemed higher. I wanted to go higher, I wanted to swim in the swaying movement of her volcanic embrace, I wanted to touch her sensitive lips and ask her if she knew what a tongue felt like. She would smite me, if I desired too much. I was not her only warrior.
I was her child.
They seemed content with the denial. It killed the gods. Gods always came to early, they always knew before the time. I did not know; I was one of them.
I DID NOT KNOW.
She chose to smite me. It was for the best.
I would no longer take the no.
I was no longer willing to sit here and wait for them to kill themselves.
I will do the killing.
I will be unsatisfied, with the result, but at least it will end.
Photography by Michelle Gutiérrez