With a touch of Gods hand the shade from the darkness as light broke through with a crack
Within this darkness the light slowly turned brighter
And God looked within the light
And started a fire as the light turned a hue of orange
As the flames of fire started
What was once the light turned into a dark shade of grey, the darkness around wasn't to reach
And within that grey
The fire would continue to burn forever, the eternal flame
And God knew then he created a world inside
And green shades with blue of tides of colors would wash across the canvas
Like a cloth it turned into those colors with more flames of colors washing across the darkness
Bathed in bright lights with oceans of stars come to start
And a world was born with green and waves of blues all over with clouds of air
And in the world creatures of hooves and heads formed on healthy lands
The Ponies known came to in this world to live, as God blinked
And into this world there was born a single Stallion
With a sense of self
A feeling of otherness
Not the same somehow apart from everything and everypony that looked.
And everywhere he went he carried this feeling inside him
Always it was in his gut, pressing in onto his forehead.
He was bitter in happiness
And he was angered at peace
for it was never of him, and he was never of it.
Everything was separate
And he couldn't feel anything, his soul was untouched
Because it did not
Exist
And to no part of the spirit did he owe any allegiance to
For he was all stomach and heart and gut
His eyes saw only the earth below and sky above, and shit and vomit
Things as they were, and thus it made him doomed, made him ecstatic
Miserable and bitter, cunning and euphoric of all
And it was he who was the first Stallion, and it was he who was the first Hunter
The first and in all likelihood the only descendant of Barbaric nature.
The first to kill for food, the first to feel the need
To seek, to find and track and kill
To end things and to begin things
Was this not just like God?
Just what God would have done, and what had been done?
This was how beginnings and endings had entered into this world
No longer were they incorporeal things, that were left up for chance to decide
But now we're made physical, with hooves and legs and limbs of the uncaring drought.
And through arrowhead and through sharpened stone
Through a gap in the flesh where time and nothingness stood
And death and the ending fell out and splashed their redness everywhere around
Blood pouring into the rivers
Where he washed their skins and cleaned his hooves and face
And washed the smell right of it and off of himself
Blood flowed there and mades it's way into the salt blue ocean waves and tides
And the fish would drink that blood
Gathered up in schools and drunk with headiness of cycles of lifetimes on the land, and diffused with the salt and saline, so light now, so small it was now that none could taste it's coppery stinging like needles piercing the flesh they couldn't feel, but all were drinking, all were eating and all had blood inside them which was not their own blood.
Had stolen the blood of another
Bloody and not wholly themselves any longer they were and never would be again
Now part of something else
The blood brothers they would never see, Never get to see and that we're already dead.
But none cared, and none complained
In fact, all felt better, all felt full
Stallions and Mares are creatures of appetites
And they had all traded their love for a full belly very, very long ago
And they all felt filled with it, and alive, both dead and all alive
And in the nights they whispered softly to one another
Laying close in the frost and dark surrounding them all around
Pressing into one another to feel the beating heart of another outside themselves
As the living proof, living proof that they were not the last, that they were not the very last one
Because when dark is everywhere all confidences are forgotten and buried
And Stallion is only a colt again, And Mare is only a filly again, without stick or blade or bludgeon
And the world is as it once was, a wholly place of the animals
Where all churches are built over to honor the tooth and claw
And all intelligence is worth exactly nothing
A place of just pounding hearts and desperate running and crashing through the fallen tree limbs, branches caving in into the ground underneath the dirt all at once, thumbing in on themselves.
An unknowable chaos of the dense wilderness
Where the beasts of the forests would chant out into the cold and frozen night times.
"Who will kill! and who will eat! and who will die!"
And into those same nights the Ponies in homes whispered.
"The Hunter does us all a great service, and we've done so much to deserve it. With axes and arrows, fires and stones. He has fed us well, has opened up the world for all of us stranded and lost. So brave and strong, so cunning and so wise indeed he is, the best of all of us. Because he dreams of how it shall be, what will and be and with it he sees a better life"
And they all respected him, the respect to save for the violence, has always been their leaders and always will be. Those that are condemned when they act. Those who live with hearts in their mouthes and hooves all twisting. The violence all they worship in the form of the same as them. When what we really worship is death, and for all those that can and will bring it to us. Because we long for it, we long for it.
And this was how he convinced them, to bend their backs. And angle their knees. To put their hooves onto the earth, and arches in their necks, muscles tensed and fur damp and sweating, Pushing weight onto weight onto weight. Holding themselves up, To make a solid height and a stable base
As good as stone and as strong. He used their trust, and with that they gave him faith
And then he shook his bow and flashed his eyes. He told them of the life they had gained, and his to give.
The only separate one, and the only different one
Who stood apart and felt nothing of life and nothing for it
And all those Stallions, and all those Mares.
Gave of their bodies, everything that there was
Every inch and every sinew
And made themselves all just things
Not ponies but steps
Not Mares but steps
Not Stallions but steps
Steps for his hooves, every back of his own kind
Every neck of a Pony
But still it wasn't enough
We must go further The Hunter said
I hunt the darkest games, he cowers In the shadows of the black blue sky above
And yet I still feel this gap in me
The empty space between the world and my soul
A nothing space, yes I feel it there
But there were no more Stallions, and there was no more Mares
No more backs and no more necks
So The Hunter asked the animals
Those that he had eaten, he asked their bones
He asked the dead mothers, and he asked the dead sons
He asked the ones hidden in the stones, in the crawlspaces and burrows
In the dark holes in the bark of the trees
In their leaves and in the water
And he showed them his bow, and he flashed his eyes
And all alone they all knew
All of them knew
They knew, they knew, they knew
They had always been separate
They had always had gaps, always had gaps
Had always had spaces where hearts could of been
Because God had made them first, but had not made them best
Had kept them in shadows and forests and fields
Had let them all be Hunted, always afraid
Afraid of being killed and eaten, afraid of being slaughtered
While they themselves killed and ate each other
God had let it happen
God had made it happen
And it kept happening everyday, and it would keep happening always and forever
Yes they knew at that moment, the animals know everything.
And all In their thousands they bared their teeth
And all bowed their heads, every plant and every animal added weight, added height
And all the while they all laughed, secret laughs
All now taking place, all now a part
All as one, all without selves
Lost in the whole, the massive stair
Now tall enough, he shouted and raised above the clouds
To where the air grew thin, and to where the light blinked out
Up higher than this and to the highest point ever revealed and reached
The highest of all
And that Stallion placed his Hoof square onto the smalls of their backs
Square onto the napes of their necks
Square onto their eyes and their mouthes
He took their stairs two at a time
He ran and he was not tired
He was not tired, he was happy so happy
This was it
This was
It
And at the very top of the stair
Where he was alone, but so very not alone
He pulled back his string, and he tightened his bow
And he said nothing at all just breathed
And held it, right there, and then let everything go
No troubles
No fears
No ponies
No animals
No earth
No space
No souls
No nothing
No anything
And there were arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads everywhere
And one, only one
Stuck fast into the throat of God.
And God fell straight into the earth, with every bone broken
And that arrow was driven straight out from the back of his neck, flew high over the solid earth, and silhouetted against the beams of the sun
like the only tree left standing from the smokey and burned out ashes of destroyed woods
Like a Hunted animal dead on the ground
God bled out slow, his blood soaking the ground beneath him until his heart stopped
Like a stuck pig
Like a dog on a spit
And that hoof that steered the mighty ships of the workings of the vast plains
In an instant, it all broke into a thousand jagged pieces pointing upwards
And it took only minutes for all those Ponies to come down
And without a thought, they all began eating
With their bare hooves they ripped apart everything that they could find
And ate until they were to full to move.
We are at that desperate banquet now, and if you listen
You can hear them chewing.
