It is true

IT IS TRUE

The story, strange and glorious, 

emerged from the mists of Time,

breezing in  like a Messenger September,

breezing in like a soothing promise,

for, You have promised me. 

A plot inspired and marvellous,

 when beings yearned for 

nothing less than the nectar

which turns mortals into immortals.

And they churned the Almighty Ocean,
seeking the golden honey,
fragrant as jasmine
and as celestial gardens.

They labored with diligence,
with effort beyond endurance.

And You encouraged them,
Eternal Friend—
not to abandon the noble endeavor,
not to stop until the divine liquid rose,
but to keep stirring,
and not to lose hope.

And from that churning
came boons and losses,
many and strange,
given in abundance:

mirth, beauty, war,
a fair damsel…
intoxicating drinks…
so many gifts,
so many disasters.

Then came peril.

Venom was released—
from the serpent’s tooth,
a creature eager, well-meant,
yet catastrophic.

The beings were rash and boorish,
the crash tremendous, horrifying,
and poison flooded the worlds,
threatening to burn all it touched.

You swallowed the venom.

You said:
“I shall swallow the venom
and bear it within.”

So fierce it was, even for You,
that fever blazed through Your body,
and Your throat turned blue.

Amba came to cool
Your burning neck and chest…

and then—a Dance.

And since then, the spirit of the Cosmos
has praised You with gratitude,
has paid homage to the Blue-Throat,
reviving this story again and again—
until this very moment of telling.

For that venture, monstrous and magnificent,
humans and demons and gods
strove together
in admirable collaboration—
and that assembly was peculiar.

And You called them all:

Darlings.