The Gamean Tree

I am sitting on a log with a bunch of other young boys as a large Hercules like man strides up and down the line calling out for someone to match the courage of Arcus Aurelios. I stand up as he tosses two boys aside proclaiming them to match the courage of a pithy nemeian scout. The rest of most of the boys and I follow him to a cliff with a huge olive tree growing out of the side of it. The man explains that this is the Gamean Tree, old with the weight of centuries. Growing on its farthest branch is a single fruit. The man explains that we must overpass the courage required to reach that fruit and retrieve it. Many of the boys climb out onto the tree courageously, but I stay back until I am one of three left. The man asks me why I hesitate, and I ask him the origins of the tree as the last boy plummets to his death to the sunbleached ruins below. He explains that the Gamean Tree was originally carved of Gaia's very roots, yet in its time under the hard sun and under the yoke of insects, it has become irritable and sunburned. Another boy falls to his death as the very branches shake under him. I run down the cliff a ways to retrieve some mud, and as I scale the tree I apply the cool wetness to its branches. Nothing moves. The tree is still as I moisturize it. I pluck the bright white fruit and bring it back to the man. He smiles and motions me and the other remaining two boys to follow.

The Wish

one day long ago,
a band of thieves found a cove,
filled with treasure so remote,
from orderly civilization to be trove

and a dagger wielding rogue found
a small jug or lamp full and round
among the treasure in a hoard
full enough to make him a lord

he uncorked the jug with fervor bold
letting loose the dark and wet smells of old
as a mist around him began to form
as the mist around the light did scorn

a great djinn rose to the ceiling
his power was so great, the rogue went reeling
in a tongue of lapis and silver he spoke
chanting the rogues freedom from the yoke

to the rogue he promised desires dual
for two of his promises to be made full
the rogue cried out in joy
and his look turned clever and sly

he wished for great power first,
over man and woman thus,
he wished for magicks terrible second,
to rule on high as King eternal

and with that the djinn did vanish,
his task finished, the dissolving mist of lapis,
heralded the bright new dawn,
for the rogue turned King of pawns

and as his soul was black as death,
azure it became in curious wealth,
he strove for knowledge and understanding,
sat for many hours under noisome tutors pandering

the sands of the sun,
black and fired became,
as the western kingdom,
wished for power of the same

and in the borders around,
that hellish circumference found,
the Antithesis of all was born,
to lead a people lost and forlorn

and from their soft and aerie perch,
the angels of above cried,
as heaven, hell and aether tied,
were cut off from earth

and without that heavenly host at call,
the men of earth were set to fall
till a champion rose up at last,
with blade slash and magicks that blast

and with power granted unto him,
by a spirit unknown to the above,
banished the evils that he once wore himself,
into the pages of forgotten lore

and as the heavens, hells and earths were again tied,
God came down in wondrous form to chide,
to congratulate and revoke,
the rogue who had broken free from divine yoke

and as he became a man once again,
the rogue was granted a single desire by God,
and the thought of power did cross his mind at length,
yet was banished summarily by an idea and nod

and he whose soul had been black,
and changed to lapis and back,
wished a wish to make his soul pure and white,
spoken in truest form, a language of starlight:

"Forgive Judas."