And there was an angel,
Back in time, the time of the ancients
When the ancients recalled him
As an angel of the very beginning
He was that angel, who was so compassionate
With the human souls…
He was so sad for their ignorance,
Their lack of purpose and perspective
Their endless suffering,
Sufferings of the flesh,
The spirit, the unknowns,
The suffering of being alive
In the middle of a mystery
Of the eternity without a glance
Of what they really were;
That was the knowledge left to be known
Only, by the Only One…
And that angel, known by the ancients
As the one who could cry
Because he had on his cloudy face
The tear drops of the rain
For all the fields dried by the sun
Flowing always as rivers
As an eternal song of love…
That angel was
The one who dared in the name of justice
The one who dared in the name of compassion
For the sake of the mortals called humans,
The one who dared to steal the fire…
Yes, he was Prometheus,
Really an angel as we defined them
That obsessive behavior to act onto others
To be good for the sake of someone
Of so many unknowns
For so many others
Far away from his angelic condition
Reached or not it was his
And had no other purpose in the heavens
Than to enjoy it, live it, contemplate
The marvelous of all the Creation…
But as a angel…lacking commonsense
He did not even asked
For the only thing that wasn’t given to the humans
The fire of the science
The one that contained
All the wisdom of knowledge
The rationale purity
Without the innocence of the newborn
That fire was forbidden
Excluded from the humans yet ready for so much
The ingredient necessary to be creators
To be like gods…
To be god!
And he did it
He stole the fire of science
And for that was condemned
To stay alive for eternity
Watching the disasters
That for his compassion he unchained!
And like a movie on his mind
All the atrocities were played forever…
The wars, the genocides,
The slavery, the homicides,
The weapons, the holocaust,
The apartheid, the segregations,
The violations, the mutilations,
The tortures, the lies,
The terror, the pollution,
The betrayals, the revolutions,
The involutions, the bombs
The nuclear weapons,
The predatory consumption
The species extinctions
And the perpetual fornication
Of the twisted concepts…
The assassinations of other angels
Incarnated as humans as
Luther King and Mahatmas Gandhi…
There was an angel…
That one from the ancient memory
When humans were just mortals
Within their innocence
Without knowing the fruits of the knowledge
Only sufferers of their nature
Without any explanation
Without any remedy
To their primitive condition, but the science
That resided in the fire brought
To them by the angel
The good angel who lost its wings
And like Prometheus as he was
No human thanked him but…
A wound on his belly was opened
To let the vultures eat his angelic liver…
And there was a vulture everyday that feasted on him
Eating up almost his entire liver
Leaving a piece to grow a new one
For each and every day
Until the ends of time…
And every day
Forgotten at his fate
By the humans he sacrificed himself
He talked to his own while waiting gratefulness,
Saying: My liver will grow back,
Tomorrow again…
augustopoderes copyright C. March 29, 2011
Back in time, the time of the ancients
When the ancients recalled him
As an angel of the very beginning
He was that angel, who was so compassionate
With the human souls…
He was so sad for their ignorance,
Their lack of purpose and perspective
Their endless suffering,
Sufferings of the flesh,
The spirit, the unknowns,
The suffering of being alive
In the middle of a mystery
Of the eternity without a glance
Of what they really were;
That was the knowledge left to be known
Only, by the Only One…
And that angel, known by the ancients
As the one who could cry
Because he had on his cloudy face
The tear drops of the rain
For all the fields dried by the sun
Flowing always as rivers
As an eternal song of love…
That angel was
The one who dared in the name of justice
The one who dared in the name of compassion
For the sake of the mortals called humans,
The one who dared to steal the fire…
Yes, he was Prometheus,
Really an angel as we defined them
That obsessive behavior to act onto others
To be good for the sake of someone
Of so many unknowns
For so many others
Far away from his angelic condition
Reached or not it was his
And had no other purpose in the heavens
Than to enjoy it, live it, contemplate
The marvelous of all the Creation…
But as a angel…lacking commonsense
He did not even asked
For the only thing that wasn’t given to the humans
The fire of the science
The one that contained
All the wisdom of knowledge
The rationale purity
Without the innocence of the newborn
That fire was forbidden
Excluded from the humans yet ready for so much
The ingredient necessary to be creators
To be like gods…
To be god!
And he did it
He stole the fire of science
And for that was condemned
To stay alive for eternity
Watching the disasters
That for his compassion he unchained!
And like a movie on his mind
All the atrocities were played forever…
The wars, the genocides,
The slavery, the homicides,
The weapons, the holocaust,
The apartheid, the segregations,
The violations, the mutilations,
The tortures, the lies,
The terror, the pollution,
The betrayals, the revolutions,
The involutions, the bombs
The nuclear weapons,
The predatory consumption
The species extinctions
And the perpetual fornication
Of the twisted concepts…
The assassinations of other angels
Incarnated as humans as
Luther King and Mahatmas Gandhi…
There was an angel…
That one from the ancient memory
When humans were just mortals
Within their innocence
Without knowing the fruits of the knowledge
Only sufferers of their nature
Without any explanation
Without any remedy
To their primitive condition, but the science
That resided in the fire brought
To them by the angel
The good angel who lost its wings
And like Prometheus as he was
No human thanked him but…
A wound on his belly was opened
To let the vultures eat his angelic liver…
And there was a vulture everyday that feasted on him
Eating up almost his entire liver
Leaving a piece to grow a new one
For each and every day
Until the ends of time…
And every day
Forgotten at his fate
By the humans he sacrificed himself
He talked to his own while waiting gratefulness,
Saying: My liver will grow back,
Tomorrow again…
augustopoderes copyright C. March 29, 2011
Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640)
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