it is not a gentle thing, to become a god.
it is neither kindness, nor gift, nor grace.
first: you must tear something out of yourself
to make room for the awe you have earned,
wanted or unwanted; either way, in the end
it doesn’t matter which it is or has become.
the result is the same; the fear is already there.
the weight of their wonder is a heavy thing
that you will have no choice but to carry.
falling or rising, whatever direction,
you have already left your past self behind.
did you choose this? or was it chosen for you?
this too doesn’t matter so much as the becoming.
second: you must understand that your power
is only yours for so long as your wellspring allows.
what birthed you may also end you,
so protect with viciousness what has replaced
the torn-out part of you that must now be
discarded, grieved, and forgotten.
the path behind vanishes with every step taken.
there is no turning back.
third: you must find what calls you to act,
and to wait, and to watch, and to rest.
gods may not sleep when what is theirs
calls for them; now this burden is yours, also.
a god’s hands are never empty so long
as their wellspring still remains for them,
and yours has just now found you;
it will not easily let you go. accept it.
you have no other choice.
fourth: you must set aside what once was
in favor of what is now and will be then.
you cannot continue the same as you once did.
remember, there is no true birth without pain,
and you will soon find (if you haven’t already)
that this, too, is no exception.
you will eventually learn to let it go.
fifth: it is-was-will-be known that godhood
is neither gentle nor kind.
if what you are now will be so despite that
has yet to be seen or proven,
so wait, and watch, and wonder.
you can only be what you are.