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 (wfdv)