Pandora’s Birth

I remember waking in the stale air of a cave – a womb inside a desolate earth, but not my earth.
This place was foreign and savage, filled with hate and pain and vast seas of red blooded rage.

There were molten moons rising all around, skeletal greys, pale greens and sickly ambers.
They rose over the horizon of this ethereal alien world to taunt my darkened senses.

I wasn’t relenting, and I refused to grow into those long grooves and veins that encapsulated the faces of Saturn’s lovers. Those straining epitaphs of exploding red suns beating as a broken heart deep down at the bottom of his bottomless ocean.

My skin rebelled against the atmosphere of that crater, crawling with nebulous tides of encroaching ice floes. Thirsty, poisonous smog growing thicker with my breathing.

I was stranded.

My limbs sank into a giving ghost land, striving to understand this meaningless motion.

Saturn floating under my belly, I tried to take my eyes from the burning red orbs calling forth great tidal waves of an unnameable ocean.

Monstrous moons warped time, warping size, crossing a boundary that was totally contrived.

I gave in and observed the monstrous growth of the giant suns, the breathing pulse of their fires, the eternal explosion of life.

Now death.

But Life again.

The waves of this changing tide burned red in reflections, calling me out to seek the blue.

The green, the Earth in between.

I gave in and
I made you.

+Lj