You had beauty like a religion, a shrine that would inspire a temple inside a cathedral, a Russian nesting doll of structures where desire speaks in tongues.
And you could have written your own psalms about how our malleable shell is overvalued in a society two filters away from being entirely fake, but instead you carved hieroglyphs in caves made out of narcotics, numbing a pain an army of devotees would have bled to drown.
The gods can scream at me that intelligence is prized above any physical form, but scripture was destroyed simultaneously with sculpture, nurturing warmth made cold, the demon destroying the tabernacle before those singing the hymns found their harmonies, and I will forever flagellate myself for not having the strength to blaspheme.
I feel a song, here~
So many examples from Greek mythology as to this happening.
Apollo, Adonis, Narcissus, Pandora, etc.
It always ends badly.
Excellent three paragraph commentary.