Prometheus
Prometheus was compassionate; brought fire to the people who needed it
most: his creations. When they were hungry and needed protection and help, his
heart went out to them. When they froze and were killed, tears were produced
from his eyes. When they died, a part of his soul was also killed.
When they cried out for help, he wished he had no ears so that he would not be
able to hear their pitiful voices. When they cursed him, he felt glad that they
hated him. When they prayed, he wished he were one of them.
And so he gave in. The will of the people had stormed the barricades of his
heart and set ablaze his soul. He gave them fire.
And they were warm.
Prometheus was a traitor and received a traitor's
punishment. Chained to a rock, his insides would be eaten by a giant bird; only
to undergo that same torture each day as consequence to immortality.
Sometimes it's a blessing to be able to die.
I see all these things when I look at her; her hair a sleek brown waterfall
spilling out from her ponytail, her eyes bright and alive, her body straight
and in the prime of youth. She oozes strength and sexuality at the same time.
She could have anything or anyone she wanted.
She would have anything she wanted. But I still see it. The pain that eats at
her soul, tears away at her peace like peeling away the layers of onion. She is
strong, I can see how strong she is; her core will not be touched for a long
time to come.
But she feels it. Finally, she feels the weight on her shoulders and it only
makes her stand straighter. She hears the sounds of her body proclaiming its
exhaustion yet it only makes her double her energy. She sees the wounds
covering her body yet it only makes her more determined to be a better
adversary.
I marvel at her endurance, her ability to keep going, her never-ending strength
and courage.
But sometimes, it's a blessing to be able to die.
For in her, I see myself, young and full of power, holding the knowledge that I
am formidable and that I can fend for myself. Knowing that if I wanted, I could
turn the entire world upside down. Feeling the content that comes with the
knowledge than I am what no one thinks I could be.
Holding that notion of my own impact on the world around me like a heart; I
have done what no one believed I could do. And that has made all the
difference.
But I look at her and I do not feel the same feelings. I see myself in her; the strength is still
there, the power, the longing, the victory. It is emotion that is the excess
feeling in her body. Emotion which she possesses in surplus; emotion which I
never had enough of.
Even as she is driven by what she knows and she is taught, she is trained by
the own feelings that govern her very existence.
I am proud of that. But I see what toll it takes on her. She is fragile even as
she is mighty.
And I worry about the outcome of her life.
END