The first of a (hopefully) series of poems on Emperor Constantine
My name is Constantine,
I’m a man blessed with destiny.
There’s purpose and a direction to my existence,
unlike the hapless fortune of most men,
void of fate and reason,
pulled only by the motions of the Universe,
being all that the Universe wants them to be.
Childish debris in the torrent of being.
The sons of time have no time of their own,
But this story is not about those that make the flesh of Gods,
It’s about those who walk, head up high, among Them.
in my own life line,
Clear in the knowledge of myself.
pulled by the certainty of Fate.
There’s a reason for my existence.
and the reason is my own,
and the reason is me.
The Gods know my name,
as they know their own kin,
I’m alive since the beginning,
coexistent with Jove and Sol and the Ignoto Dei…
each of us a road in the map of Being,
where the rabble is but a moment of my path.
I exist, where everything around does not.
My trek is clear,
My spirit is sharp,
my will is keen.
Strong armed and quick.
I am now,
all the man that I was supposed to be.
My actions are weaved in the loom of Moira,
I have the certainty of rocks and the changing seasons,
the motor of history
and the reason for all becoming.
Constantine I’m called,
Known by name by the Gods,
and needing the love of none.