from Brand New Ancients

In the old days,

the myths were the stories we used to explain ourselves

but how can we explain

the way we hate ourselves?

The things we’ve made ourselves into,

the way we break ourselves in two,

the way we overcomplicate ourselves?

But we are still mythical.

We are still permanently trapped

somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful.

We are still Godly,

that’s what’s made us so monstrous.

It just feels like we’ve forgotten

that we’re much more

than the sum of the things that belong to us.

Every single person has a purpose in them burning.

Look again.

Allow yourself to see them.

Millions of characters

Each with their own epic narratives

Singing, ‘it’s hard to be an angel

Until you’ve been a demon’.

We are perfect because of our imperfections,

We must stay hopeful,

We must be patient;

When they excavate the modern day

They’ll find us,

The Brand New Ancients.

All that we have here

Is all that we’ve always had.

We have jealousy,

tenderness,

curses and gifts.

But the plight of a people who have forgotten their myths

and imagine that somehow

now is all that there is –

is a sorry plight

all isolation and worry

but the life in your veins

it is Godly, heroic.

You were born for greatness.

Believe it,

know it –

take it from the tears of the poets.

there’s always been heroes,

there’s always been villains,

the stakes may have changed

but really there’s no difference.

there’s always been greed

and heartbreak and ambition.

jealousy, love,

trespass and contrition,

we’re the same beings that began,

still living,

in all of our fury and foulness and friction.

Everyday odysseys.

Dreams vs decisions.

The stories are there if you listen.

The stories are here.

The stories are you

and your fear and your hope is as old

as the language of smoke,

the language of blood,

the language of languishing love,

the Gods are all here.

Because the Gods are in us.