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Woe, those destined to be Goddesses
Cast down within humans from enigmatic heights of outer space;
Whence the mighty were alleged to live
In the bluest of the fixed stars; un-scorched,
But bathed in monumental azure fire in everlasting renewal
Of recycled phoenixes, the nebulae
Their breaths, black holes their gloomy wrath,

And all were engraved in the oldest tongue ever
Spoken, in which there lied inborn Truth.
Yet with bestial heraldry civilization marched,
Torches enlightened the gate of semi-blasphemy,
Prevalent as vermin on Face of Earth,
Held falsely esteemed;
Nietzsche, Hegel, Schopenhauer, sophists as they were
to discern divinity’s identity;
To entrench the creatures in a fairy tale
With a fortress of simulacra.

Goddesses did die yet few were left, unearthly on earth,
Dazed, crazed, modern Cassandra and schizophrenia,
Curled up domestic positions on disheveled mats like dogs.
Once in pedigree of God, reduced to beasts,
People bustled past the faerie dreams oblivious;
Lest 'twas time to hurl their daughters
From TV to their homework, due on Monday.

Below, a sedimentary layer of cities sputtering light,
Overhead, the light contaminated sky,
Illuminated Night but starless
As if fallen from Mother Darkness.
Accursed with iridescent advertisements among highways,
Air turning purple. Here and there, the Once-Goddesses
Turned from their computers
Opened the windows for air ancient as themselves,
And, seeing stars beyond seven veils of skies,
They remembered---- and sprang---- and took flight----

And squashed, crucified right on the asphalt and around whom
seven layers of myth-and-blood-thirsty onlookers,
As if resurrection were a solid thing.
And over the skies, beyond where the atmosphere turns turquoise,
Beyond where heaven is supposed to be, We know by galactic telescopes
That there is no God,
But extraterrestrials,
Living fiery immortality.

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