Jan 26, 2021
There is a seat at the head of the table for Life, and to her right and left the Sun and Moon. A seat is reserved for Death, though she never attends.
The Old Gods, the universal gods who were first created in worship.
No spot sits open for the god of prey, of slain things.
No songs are written for the god of the meek, of the hunted.
But is he not one of the oldest gods? Perhaps even before Death herself, there had to be something killed.
The god of panting breaths, of deep burrows and high nests. The tender of rabbits and keeper of mice.
Because in the end, murmurs of begging mercies came before sacrifices of bounties planned.
Because prayer, is for the weak.
#thinking about how#the weak always prayed before the strong#the conquered before the conquerers#because a prayer from the lowly is in the moment its desperate and day to day#a prayer from those who already Have is an affair its something to do to maintain power#and there are so many weak prayers and so few strong ones why shouldnt it stand to reason that the god for the meagre shouldnt be#old as the ages#anyways#thotsTM#mags babs#mythology#i guess? not really from any mythology im just#blabbin
