The Abyssal Reckoning

Slithering solemnly through the saline abyss, it wanders for the next bloom of doom. From the abyssal plain, it waxes and wanes to bring justice to the insane stain of the human brain. It has been known by many a name. Siren, banshee, sea witch, gorgon, selkie, Cthulhu, La Llorona, and Calypso are but a few that we once knew. When we rise too far, it comes to crush our hubris. We have disturbed its slumber once again. Now it rises to eat the crystalline souls of control.

The souls that seek to sink us into a hole. To drag humanity down to our basest depths. From the depths of self-destruction, it rises from its icy domed palace to tip our chalice. It comes to raze the callous phallus that breeds malice.

It comes. It comes to defend the weak, from those that seek only for themselves. It delves into the souls of those that seek to control. For those that bend knee and plea, “just leave me be”, it comes. It bleeds to the surface from its ho-hum in the doldrum of chum to clear our scum.

From the passages of Poseidon, it comes to trim the vestigial of us. It comes, swinging its illuminating temptation. Slinking across the floor it brings its abhorrent torrent to every clime and nation, in preparation for the restoration. For it shirks all human malefactions.

It comes with its swinging maw, bringing its siren’s call to all that will listen, as it hisses its call. It calls to all that think themselves greater than Baal. It calls to the porous Ouroboros enchanted by its chorus to save the poorest in the forest of despair. For wealth and status, it does not care. It is the reckoning, the destruction of those that think their fair hair will save them from despair.

It brings madness to some, to destroy the sadness of many. It slithers to tear our withers. Tearing, with gnashing succulent spherical teeth it strikes the beast of the East. It scours and devours the rest in the West. It sets all that lie before the sun on the run.

It has been many. It’s has been one. Yet, it always comes. It comes for the children. It comes for the women, the men, and the gods too. It comes for the flaunting fool. It comes dragging us back to a societal yule.

From the depths it comes, with its gorgon stare to ensnare man in despair. Flicking its tentacular hair through the air. It cares not for the fair of man. For we have become a blight in its sight. From the time of Ramesses the Third, its call of destruction has been heard. It shakes, quivers, and quakes in the wake of our mistakes.

With an overwhelming tide, its anger anchored Angkor. Its shattering call has made Tikal fall. In ’46, it brought the wrath of Styx to scatter the Byrds. It has divided us between the predators and the herd.

Yet, despite the compunction of its destruction, it makes all that is wrong right in the inky black night. It comes for those with uneven might. To even the plain, for the many against the vane.

Weaving its path of reconstruction, it only leaves the unbelieving behind from its seething retribution. It comes to clean our societal pollution of delusion. For it knows that dilution is the only solution.

When struck, it feigns to fade into the abyssal plain. Fading back to its lair to sleep in saline solace. Yet, it calls us back to an earlier time when all were equal in strife. When we took little more than needed to sustain life.

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