Medea VI / Deus Ex

I squat like a barbarian, and the
future spreads before me like an eagle.
Foreign again among hairy devils—
this time my skill will open to manna.

Recovered from the premise of everlasting,
I call surrender at the Empire’s core.
Supernal hum, unbested roar. The cure
I carry, knowledge made flesh fastening

us to this King. I will have let him love
me. And so it spreads. If, the conditional.
When, the future stakes itself to have,

not to what might have been. The perdition hole
will have closed over before I move
on, not alone, to where the vision falls.