Nέμεσις

Personification of God’s idle perfection,

Epochs before this have claimed you,

The archaic gods will make you

An example in your death.

Curst to know yourself, vain paragon,

Your tears will recreate Cocytus and Pyriphlegethon,

Carrying your burning wails into Acheron

Your river of woe and death.

Never to taste, never to touch

Drift amidst the scattered echoes

Of long forgotten lust;

Dead gods rise and so I

Dispense with this your justice

(It is not vengeance but justice)

This I give to you.

Drift, despair, dream

Of lips never to kiss

There’s none to hold you

Here’s Thanatos to claim you,

You will never know the wilderness of mirrors

For you there is naught but this.

No do not flee!  Do not leave me!

Stay!  Desert not him who loves thee!

Cruel one!  Forgive me!

I know not what I’ve done!

This passion!

Compassion!

I will surrender

My love, surrender

Hear me gods!  I will surrender

All

All to you

Just grant me this one wish I beg you

No flowers for my grave I pray you

Mercy!  I implore you

A taste to slake this thirst.

Naïve one, mercy,

Is not something to which you should aspire,

Do you not know that mercy

Is the spider’s web that catches the spider?

All is not yours to surrender

I take even your liquid mirror

Is there no more you can do

Than whine with your final breath?

I am one of those dread ancients

Dispensing justice, not mercy

I grant you, then, your justice

You will still be beautiful in death.