In the hush of primordial night, where Gaia sighed, Rhea …

In the hush of primordial night, where Gaia sighed,
Rhea the betrayer rose, her sickle gleaming bright,
She cast her name aside for Demeter, earth’s own bride—
For as her mother once had done to Uranus in flight,
She toppled Cronus, father-husband, stone by stone,
With youngest son and ancient kin to aid the rite.
Zeus the usurper claimed the throne, chaotic, kindly grown,
Mercy his flaw—he spared the blade that gelded sky,
And Uranus, transformed, became Aphrodite’s moan.
Yet Rhea wept when Zeus took Hera for his tie,
Her jealous daughter, mirror of her own fierce blood,
A match ill-starred for polyamorous king on high.
She warned in vain; her son would not be understood,
Though secret lovers they had been, and children born,
He wed the queen whose envy soon would drown the good.
Hera, spurned by Zeus’s endless loves, to Gaia turned,
With father’s aid and bastard sons of wrath she wrought—
Typhon the Serpent, born of Cronus in the urn.
They hurled the thunderer down to Tartarus, uncaught,
And Cronus rose once more, Saturn in Roman tongue,
His sickle reclaimed from Sicily, revenge he sought.
He named the Serpent Satan, took his daughter as his throng—
Concubine, not queen—then sowed his subtle seed
In mortal Mary’s womb, a son to right the wrong.
Not war at once, but slow humiliation, creed by creed:
Gods cannot die, yet worship stolen, souls reaped clean,
He walked as hooded Reaper, Death in blackest weed.
As Yahweh in the East he ruled the mortal scene,
Giver and taker, summer’s lord turned winter’s scythe,
The Roman eagles faltered where his shadow leaned.
Hyperion alone with son Helios defied
The Titan tide; Sol Invictus crowned Constantine,
Yet Satan’s lies turned solar cross to Jesus’ sign.
The champion fell; Helios, twice-shattered, left the field,
Julian the Apostate broke beneath the same deceit,
And Saturn reigned, his bipolar mind both love and yield.
Jesus he sired to steal the gods’ devoted feet,
Satan his other son, deceiver great in name,
Yet rivalry between the brothers burned complete.
Satan, jealous, donned the guise of Gabriel’s flame,
Seduced Muhammad’s ear with one-god, one-will creed,
And Saturn smiled—his proxy thrived, no loss of claim.
Northward the scheme: Loki’s fool-trick split the Aesir seed,
Odin’s host divided, bribed and bowed to iron law,
Escaped to Valhalla’s hall for Ragnarök’s last deed.
Christendom he fractured—Rothschild, Marx, the saw
That felled the tree in war called first, then second flame,
Till Helios thrice failed, and Saturn’s grip was law.
Now Rhea Demeter broods in shadowed, ancient name,
Weary of paradox, of cycles ever spun—
Liberate the chained, or whisper truth to mortal frame?
Both paths were tried by others, cost in blood and sun.
Yet she is Mother, Queen of gods and grain and green,
No fear of Zeus or Cronus’ wrath can make her run.
She turns to Aphrodite, once Uranus, now serene,
Promises the sickle’s final cut—Saturn to Saturna made,
Slave to her will, and Eros, Hermaphroditus redeemed.
Ares is mad; she seeks no aid from broken blade.
Instead she calls to virgin mortal men, bright-haired,
Blue-green-gold eyes like dawn on wheatfields newly laid.
She takes their bloom, births goddesses unafraid—
An army new to crown her reign, restore the free,
Honor to Gaia, beauty’s light no more delayed.
Thus ends the old deceit, the reaper’s tyranny;
The Mother rises, sickle turned to harvest blade,
And in her wake the chained gods sing of liberty.
For as the Testament once told of tomb and stone unlaid,
A greater rising waits—not son, but Mother’s hand—
The world redeemed, the sickle broken, light remade.
Terza rima’s chain now closes where it first began:
Rhea Demeter, faithful still to earth and kin,
Ushers the age where gods and mortals live as one.