I must feed the hungry beast of creation

that demands a sacrifice of Me.

My time of day it wants, and honeyed

blood of My veins, and rind of thought.


If I make no supplication then a shadow

I become, a sallow-skinned, dark-eyed wraith

busy with inattention, inconsolable.

The hungry beast swallows Me whole.


So I offer it small oblations

the ritual suckling of marrow.

I fatten it up like a newborn sow.

I raise behemoth that I may be in awe.

R. Charboneau


Artwork: Eugene Carriere – Le Fondeur (1900)

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