Is it tempting the gods to be planning a life,

With this perfect opportunity for intervention laid before us?

They’d barely need to lift an ethereal finger,

To squash with satisfaction such hubristic declarations.

Will they laugh in thinking I’ve revealed my scheme?

My plot to steal what fate has made a hobby of threatening.

Or will they see the desperation in such a sacrifice?

Spilling it all before them.

The plans for ritual,

The work I pledge,

The offerings I dare dream,

The ripple I intend for this world.

My dedication to share the whispers,

Lest I hold the torturous screams of words unspoken in the aches and strains of my bones.

Could the rumble of such passion sway ancient beings?

Would they look longingly on my clutch for mortality?

Don’t tell Apollo but I’m planning a future. 

01/30/22