He
In a forgotten cavern, deep beneath the surface, where nameless creatures scurry in the endless pitch black of undisturbed aeons, He sleeps. He sleeps in a sarcophagus fashioned by antediluvian creators, sealed by gods know who..yet He sleeps. He sleeps and waits. He waits for some careless labourer to crack the roof of that foul chamber and for the first invasive beam of light to violate the surface of his prison chamber, or some landslide or earthquake or some other acts of ‘god’ to do the very same.
For now he sleeps, he lays dreaming pensive waiting, planning dreaming endless dreams repeating them over and over in perpetuity. Scheming, waiting patiently yet strained for that perfect day. His face undisturbed smiling, grimacing maligned delight betrays his malice.
For now man is happy, the fields are green, the cities busy, the gears are greased. Day by day the age of man is maturing and culminating to new heights unimagined even by He. For now He sleeps.
Once he awakes, this will cease. . With a glimmer in his eye, and a mere wave of his hand, He will execute his long awaited plans
The fields will wither, the gears shall rust, the cities shall be SMASHED and man shall NOT be happy. When HE awakes He shall be happy. All milk will be soured, all air poisoned, choking clouds shall envelope those survivors of his first waking yawns.
All babies shall be still-born, all wine bitter, all meat spoiled, every worm fat, all bread fouled by mold.
Man shall starve immediately, every heart shall seize, every brain shall hemorrhage, and yet every spine crushed, every bone broken and every joint smashed.
And even then He is not finished; every ruined place man called home shall be cleansed by fire, clouds of smoke shall be the only feature to mark mans passing… and even then He is not finished, not until all things crawling, swimming and flying end…..all oceans shall boil, all caverns collapse, every river turned to mud.
Then when the last fowl has expired, the last fish dried, the last crawling thing dead and the son of man is ash, only then shall they come, gods knows who, they shall come and capture him and again He will be imprisoned within some strange device. No explanations given because none will expect them. Yes son of man He will come.
But for now He sleeps.
For now he sleeps, he lays dreaming pensive waiting, planning dreaming endless dreams repeating them over and over in perpetuity. Scheming, waiting patiently yet strained for that perfect day. His face undisturbed smiling, grimacing maligned delight betrays his malice.
For now man is happy, the fields are green, the cities busy, the gears are greased. Day by day the age of man is maturing and culminating to new heights unimagined even by He. For now He sleeps.
Once he awakes, this will cease. . With a glimmer in his eye, and a mere wave of his hand, He will execute his long awaited plans
The fields will wither, the gears shall rust, the cities shall be SMASHED and man shall NOT be happy. When HE awakes He shall be happy. All milk will be soured, all air poisoned, choking clouds shall envelope those survivors of his first waking yawns.
All babies shall be still-born, all wine bitter, all meat spoiled, every worm fat, all bread fouled by mold.
Man shall starve immediately, every heart shall seize, every brain shall hemorrhage, and yet every spine crushed, every bone broken and every joint smashed.
And even then He is not finished; every ruined place man called home shall be cleansed by fire, clouds of smoke shall be the only feature to mark mans passing… and even then He is not finished, not until all things crawling, swimming and flying end…..all oceans shall boil, all caverns collapse, every river turned to mud.
Then when the last fowl has expired, the last fish dried, the last crawling thing dead and the son of man is ash, only then shall they come, gods knows who, they shall come and capture him and again He will be imprisoned within some strange device. No explanations given because none will expect them. Yes son of man He will come.
But for now He sleeps.
posted by Paul Motes at 2/23/2006
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