i ignite

sometimes i light up, i ignite.


Based on the novel, American Gods:

America is a poor place for gods
For it is a land of fickle beings
Who believe and then forget
And leave behind a trail of lost idols

Gods are transient and ephemeral
They form from belief and faith
Wished into existence by pleads for deliverance and salvation
Spring from rich soil and wild rivers

They are born in the heat and the bitter cold
Grow in the souls of believers
Feast on desperation and blind trust
And live according to the whims of man

In the old lands
Followers offered them sacrifices by the dozen
Thanked their deities for the air they breathed
And the ground they walked upon

Gods could cure pain and sickness
Calm storms and create chaos
Protect those who could not protect themselves
And reward the righteous and punish the sinful

They had the power to remind the living of the words of the dead
Pluck gold coins from thin air
Guide the lost to safety
And know all of the dreams and secrets of men

The gods possessed countless limbs
Decorated themselves in blood
Littered their bodies with jewels
Rode wolves and waves

They carried staffs and crowns
Walked barefoot, even on baking sand
Wore stunning grins and fierce scowls
Looked absolute and immortal

Gods are the reluctant immigrants
Who follow their believers to distant lands
Only to be forgotten for new beliefs and deities
And left to fend for themselves in an unfamiliar world
Their names are forgotten
And their shrines are neglected
Their immortality are threatened by desertion
And they become scavengers for crumbs of faith

Gods do not abandon us
We abandon them

—    starlordthepelvicsorcerer