Sons of Succubus
On the long-lost stones
of Cumae, lay Uranus broken, dead.
Where the scourging witch Mohini,
twiddles with needle and thread.
Exiled himself, the wandering hero,
he met a woman in white.
Her suckling babe, a ball of clay,
eyes enchanting to fornicate.
For many years, a thousand now,
he fell to her fictitious grace.
And the energies of him, a boundless god,
rejuvenates her aging face.
The children born, monsters of time,
A golem, a hydra, a snake.
Yet a boiling rage into the hero’s soul,
a volcanic eruption of hate.
Disrupts the ether, disrupts time itself,
disrupts the waters of hope.
And the mighty Typhoeus awakes
from under Mount Etna, majestic slope.
Valorous charge, Zeus and Titans,
together on a mighty quest.
Mohini watches and slips away,
leaving with Uranus-like zest.
The mountains collide, the pulling tide,
a clash never forgotten.
And as Typhon falls, a single tear
from Uranus face, he leaves lovelorn. Heartbroken.