expect the apocalypse
if a vow as sacred as I have taken
should prove
mutable in the wills
and winds
and currents of the human heart,
stolen from the fires of a Promethian glory
unshackled to the punishing stone
to atone for the arrogance of hope
and love
and empowering the juggernaut.
actions refracted in colours of a spectrum
that runs not from red to violet
but from osmium to radium
through silver and platinum and gold and rhodium
polished to a rosary of alpha particles
striking ghostly glowing receptors
in a flint and steel approach to making
nuclear fusion of lovers' sweat.
breaking down the waters
to make hydrogen and oxygen,
breathing in the latter
and fusing the former
in a thermonuclear glory
that rises like the sun in a heart
finally released like Glatisant
to stalk the legends of a lost mythology.
where the Gods walk only in tandem.
as it should be.


copyright William F. DeVault