Ishtar

In human form the sea has walked and presented her gifts in the sultriness of summer when the air is at its dampest your goddess strolled amongst you. Invisible since Phoenician eyes, masked beneath the blue, Ishtar has beautified your lands, fertilized your women, defended you in times of war and deprived your artists of love so as to feel the muse of pain upon their scrolls.

Gorging ravenously at her gifts you’ve fattened your appetites to forever be unsatisfied. Taut belly and dyed textiles cherished more than humanity, your carnage no longer fulfills your desire for divinity. And in your missionary propaganda you’ve converted the souls of believers to the heedlessness of their patron.

None seek forgiveness in the garden, her temples flattened, replaced by shrines of steel. Moral mortals dissolve into fungal pestilence. Sacrifices have ceased, sea growing murderous in its wait as it browns in bacterium lace, bubbling with vindictiveness. Her powers pull the sea and as history repeats itself she shall find a way to speak.

And she shall roar, hiding the sun as she lifts above the earth returning humility to the infestation of grandeur. To shrivel is the fate once more. You shall remember your Phoenician ancestors and acquire their sight as engulfments of salt remind you. 

She will return wearing bloodied pearls.

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