Death of Olympus

And so, the laurel wreath slipped from the crown of the world,

mournfully replaced by a halo of thorns.

Exchanging the Aegis for a cross,

wisdom ceased to flow from the lips of that fierce young maiden,

reserved now for the twisted tongues of zealous men.

The Sea God’s trident became unspeakable,

and the King of the Cosmos was laid low by a lonely god.

Death slipped darkly from Stygian fingers,

Damnation and Salvation razing Asphodel to dust.

Punishment and Elysium, thrust roughly apart,

forever jailed by Black and Pearly Gates.

The wild elixir of grapes curdled with solemn gravity,

soured madly into Holy Blood.

The Messenger God’s sandal wings were clipped,

unfeeling angels stealing their swiftness away.

War, cowed and chained, was made a wretched slave,

a weapon wielded by Traitors,

smiting defenders of the gods.

Love, in her radiance, was shamed and imprisoned,

commanded only to be given to the One.

The Huntress’s followers became gleefully hunted,

their maidenheads lusted after by the suitors of saints.

The Smith’s strong hammer and tongs were seized,

fattening the Usurper’s churches with the bones of Olympus.

The Mother of Grains’ golden gift became fodder,

filling Galilean stomachs with the flesh of their prince.

The Hearth’s soft-glowing comfort was extinguished,

snuffed out by stiff pews and unforgiving stone floors.

Marriage lost her glory to Chastity and Virginity,

cast –weeping– aside,

for the dream of far-flung paradise.

The Son of Man died once for humanity,

while immortal Forethought, enduring eons in agony,

was blotted out,

his bitter sacrifice eclipsed by a pale, single sorrow.

The Heroes of Olympus were damned and defamed,

their feats strangled out by far lesser deeds.

Simple Chaos reforged, emerging as Evil,

factionless daimons shaped into soldiers of Satan,

made deliberately devilish by the fires of Hell.

Nymphs of the earth and nereids of the sea

eaten alive,

swallowed whole,

their magic absorbed by the yawning vacuum of the One.

The gods were crushed by their faithless creations,

their shining remains laid away coldly in lavender,

while the One was brought so fervently to life,

fresh, and breathing

with omnipotence and rage.

Only the glittering stars escaped the destruction by Hellfire,

gleaming high and proud above the turbulent world,

preserving, with grace, in their scintillating grasp

the last sanctuary of Olympus,

in the vault of the sky.