love letters for the end of the world: x
of coming to
with the future in my hands
and the prophecy in my eyes.
hardly more a man than myth,
and almost as alive.
i've come for you, i'll say. the games are over.
we both win.
the soil waits, the stones are set,
our work at last begins.
i dream of her then waking, of her rising,
of chains and weights then falling; of my woman,
i yearn to see her hold her power high
and bare her teeth,
i long to see her vengeance and her joy
at last unsheathed.
i'll drink it in, i'll savor it, though still
i will not speak.
she need not know the blood i spill,
the counsel that i seek.
and let it be unknown to her,
that i have kissed the blade
of the dagger she will bury in my chest,
one distant day.
i will worry not, and anger not,
this bargain made and blessed.
i will love her with my life,
and i will never
love her less.
for i may be the prophetess, the vessel,
and the seer.
but my woman is the prophecy;
She will bring the world to heel.