se thelo

Dionysus fell from a tree. I caught him, kissed and coddled him in my arms. They were sweet, such delightful estival kisses upon the lips.

Thunder struck, but prescient and of the flighty acumen, I removed myself so as to avoid, propitiously the awe and terror of the lightning bolt shattering instantly at my feet.

To think, and not to offend my own intellect, that I developed within the confines of such a small belly of such a decrepit and insignificant magnitude. Now that they have been torn asunder and as if by command, the light has infiltrated the sacrosanct ghastliness of what was ultimately my room: my world.

Perhaps I shall never accomplish anything of import, though I may wish it. In the end, the prophesy of Achilleus shall take form and I shall smile bitterly. Perhaps someone of courage will repeat the wisdom of Pasternak.