major prophet

Even I was a being molded for nobility. Even I was concave, seeking the weight of that which came from heaven; primed for the blight of that which was holy.

It was just that I discovered a better source of pain.

Seeking the image of a creature bereft, I recognized instead the bounty of “man” – that they are given first what they snare between their teeth; second what they hold in their open palms. And I understood that I had been feasting for decades.

Is it I alone who can give my hunger a proper name? If not, dare I share the feast? For none could bemoan my false burdens like I do. None could know my nauseous raptures.

But – “Ah, tis a balm. Tis a current. Tis a voice.” The assuaged have woven their nets in which to catch visions; they do not use their hands at all. But I have no use for such contraptions, despite my need for them.

On a great mountain top, I make great declarations, “There are none righteous. There are none who understand.

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