Second Battle of Uruk, Battle of Life

Feet running over hills with fill of blood; shields and swords crashing, clashing like thunderstorm to form real ethereal battle for the life of humanity in calamity of heaven, hell and earth where the worth of every woman and man is tested. Metal on metal for hours upon hours and still battle rages in cacophony no sage in any age could have prophesied — and even so, never would — in this time memory nearly forgot, though survival was bought at such cost as men and women sought freedom from the Fallen Ones, the Watchers.

Will the city fall? Will humanity call to Dyēus or succumb to the scum forces of sheer lust for blood and rape neath dark capes — hideous in might and power; in sight, perfection of evil beauty; will warriors attend their duty? Ah! test of strength, skill to kill; determination in extermination of enemy horde; bravery and courage uncaged, erupting and disrupting balance of the world; skills till now unknown, unfurled. Was this, then, the field of fate or freedom? Destiny sealed or choice given to yield or no; even the best could not know. But days passed into nights and nights into days. Here is Kheba and Lemek, Innana and Metuşelah; many brave men and women … and the Watchers and wraiths.

So many bravehearted youth lay dead — they could have fled — where they fell prey to enemy sword, life cord severed; so now they sleep, not in tomb, but in womb of Gaia, kindly mother earth, who will give birth to ten thousand coloured flowers for the untold number of sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers, who willingly paid in blood and laid down their lives for others to survive and thrive…

I jolted awake in a cold sweat, bolted upright in bed and said, “My God! Have I seen such true horror; what’s been on field of battle for Uruk?”

“You weep; that is good, and good to keep in memory this battle. Bury it not deep, but let it sweep over you, and seep into every fibre of your being,” Innana spoke, fighting back choke of tears; “this battle you missed since my sister kissed you farewell, yet you can tell from vision I’ve burned into your soul what you might have learned had you stayed, rather than obeyed … if, that is, you’d fought without being caught by battle-axe or sword, fang or barbed-noose cord.”

Worn. Torn. Forlorn.

“This was more than one more battle fought, in one more war; more than just another score of victory with price paid in blood and tears shed as we laid our dead in bed of earth… So much of this evil is of our own birth. Why? Can you try to understand?” I dared not answer in the pause; the cause of her pause being contemplation with some obvious self-degradation. “Why try anymore? Why cry? Why not say ‘good-bye,’ and be done with humanity? Ah! This would be cruelty, would it not? That we laid upon humanity such curse, then bade them be holy, wholly as the gods, and yet … so many gods have fallen — nine and nine and nine again; ten and ten thousand — and in their fall so many humans stood tall above them, but in love of virtue, died in cold blood… So we practically damned humanity and now have the gall to reprimand! To command? Yes … but it is also for us to reverse the curse.”

To reverse the curse?

To reverse the curse…

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Kheba: Pages From Forgotten Ages III

Stretched out in small pool, filled with water clear and cool, we went about our discussion, the repercussion of which strained my every nerve and tensed every curve of my body … although, oddly enough, there was no complete abdication of relaxation as Kheba braided arm and legs with my own, our bodies half-laid between Metuşelah and Lemek.

“So do you remember Dyēus gave birth to his three daughters, the Tri-Mater?” I gave slight nod of my head, resting upon bed of her bosom. “You know, too, the truly hateful jealousy of Şeytan and his baitful lies and flies of hell he sends round the world, ready always to ring death bell. You remember, too, how Ma’at flew out from the heavenly ether breathed by Dyēus, to slaughter the maggot fodder of the ddiafol; how Şeytan as squirming worm did deceive Havva, who gave the fruit of discernment to Adama to receive without leave from God, who wept at commandment not kept.”

“Yes,” I whispered in subdued alarm as Lemek wrapped strong arm round my shoulders, sitting next to me like deific boulder.

“You remember, too, Kaini ever-so cruel, an human ghoul born of Adama and Havva, after sinister sister, Lilith; how Kaini and Abele struggled ~ brother and brother ~ Kaini murdering his best of kin without rest, till the cries of agony finally ceased for Abele deceased.” My terror and nausea increased at the vivid memory — Kaini so ugly and livid. “And the smiles of Lilith with her cunning wiles, and how she fled miles to the east to feast on kindred beast, where she would be high priest of the newly birthed city of Smriti.”

The hulk of Metuşelah shifted his bulk, sleepily breathed deeply, but entered gracefully into the quiet recounting of such horrid memory. “Yes, and then from black tomb of Lilith’s womb came Kālikā, warrior goddess severing heads and leading the dead, who cast dæmonic spell upon Bast, who then ever-so fast held to blood lust, and especially to suck from the bust of men. Ah, but Kālikā was kicked by Dyēus, tricked into lying with angel Tanrı, who paid the great price and coupled with hideous vice incarnate, so Kālikā bore Parvati, sweet goddess of verdancy and vibrancy.” 

“Ah! But this angered the bitch-witch, Bast, who cast her lot on lush, green plain in hush of life, to build her city out of self-pity!” Kheba practically spit the words out from pit of her stomach, now locked like rock. “Then came her miserable tower of power, for she was hell-bent on reaching back to the halls of Valhalla, where she believed she was meant, though sent away by Dyēus himself for such misuse of so much given her since birth … when she was worth so much more … store of my heart … broke … broke with one stroke of wicked spell from hell.” Ah! Ah! I bolted forward and turned sharply toward her… “Yes, my love. My womb made room for child, and in due time cast forth Bast, my daughter … and I thought like clay, and I the potter. But she was ere so cool, and I the fool!”

“Then came the fire and ice,” Metuşelah spoke with eyes now open, but distant and resistant to all present. “This … this is when I was born and torn from my dying mother by father and brother; and the one who married her never buried her, though his heart bled — Henokh — for he had no time; he led his family quickly ahead of danger to chamber of safety.” He looked at me with blank stare at such grave affair…

“The Watchers had come…”

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Note:  First Photo, “The Goddess Bridgit: Passion,” by Helen O’Sullivan (Recast Here as Kheba); Second Photo, “Nevada’s Mysterious Cave of the Red-haired Giants,” by Terrence Ayn as found at http://www.beforeitsnews.com (Recast Here as Man Facing the Watchers)