In godly flesh made martyr by a harridan of noble blood, warring hands bear the stains of his family’s demise. Hera’s spells of madness driven to feverous murder. Tight to the breast, his venom and kin—his tears are as the storm.
Demanding forgiveness in a frenzy, his shouting thunder is heard by all. Divine retort from the oracle at Delphi offering twelve labors for absolution to kneeling not akin to mortal men, not a slave tearing at his flesh in hand, his bedside ill with terror.
Bastard son to wrathful god. Father to a murdered fold. Willed by pain and remorse, in fathoms of hateful debt. Every year a writhing end to a caustic beast of his ilk. Earthen clay thirsts not for the red he smears on his face in the day.
In lands of unruly women, over colorful oceans of song, an over-man governs the world by his strength. Sojourn is he who is free. Uncertain eyes and unsure hands bear him to decree the trials of cowardly Eurystheus to win his final peace. To his ears the sound of baying hounds in fear, his skin the warmth of marvelous blood. To each task a chant of victory—an ending to the knells of his evil.
His lion’s hide is wet with Hydra blood, weighing him not for the race of the Hind. The boar of midwinter sends the king to his jar while releasing the rivers to abate the stable rot.
A rattle is heard while feathers fall. The marathon bull paves glory for he. Terrible horses breathe fire no more, quelled by one who wears the foreign belt. Sayer of mighty cattle and bearer of heaven’s fruit with Cerberus upon his back he reaps his final reward. Haughty is the spirit that flows in hallowed veins. Valleys lay in purple and red—misted fields of vaporous blood.
Absences of his kindred tormenting his mind with wrath. Dusted crimson under nail lamenting breath inside his chest. Weaponized revenge stirring in heaps of shame as sure as approaching seasons, his famine of sleep doth yield. Forgiven of his brooding crime and a convalescence of his soul driven out of ill repute, emaciated mind no more.
