Young maidens lay themselves naked on the sand, waiting for
the gods to come, this need for immortality, shaking the earth each time Greek
myths come into my mind. I picture her, how she ascend the celestial stairs,
embracing these mighty figures as if to inherit just a fraction of the power
they possess, waiting for the bolts of lightning or the hammer of thunder, to
have that godly manhood penetrate her deepest recesses, leaving in her their
great treasure, she, laying herself down, accepting their embraces, taking into
herself all the gifts they might bring that made reshape her into a goddess as
well, she, laying herself on the sand,
feeling their godly touch, salt of the seat swirling over her for that moment
and then I wonder, did she get all she needed before she moved on to seek other
gods, or does she feel as if the waves that wash over her have given her less
than her heart’s desire, and will she have to do this all over again with some
other god on some other beach with hope she will fare better if she does.
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