I’d forgotten all about this. Timely. Lately He is asking of me terrifying things, and I’m . . . terrified. Wrapped in love, feeling cherished, feeling the possibility of being brave, but still, terrified. This was a great time to find this, again. Hail, Poseidon.
They call You savage, these scholars who study Your past, Your culture, Your people. They consider ancient writings, ancient fictions, consider enscriptions, old offerings. Cities toppled, earthquakes that shatter lives, curses and plagues with Your name on them, at some offense seen. Earth-shaker, in hopes that You would still Your wrath. Steadfast, in hopes to placate you.
They call You petulant, these men and women who live in a time when most dismiss You as a construct humankind created to help order our world. Long has it been since You were seen as a living thing, a being worth knowing, worth believing in. They look no further than Homer, some of them, and see You only as some ill-mannered child, creating chaos to soothe Your ego, Your pride.
You are named cold, uncaring, unconcerned with this most important of species. You are of wilder places, wilder times, ancient, too uncivilized…
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