#iatros

Drawing this while listening to the raid music was the best thing ever.

     No, if you seek that secret - you shall only find mortality. But all too often, children listen but fail to hear; And so, the stubborn young man finds that flower, Or - who knows? - it might be Medousa's blood; Either way, it's a slippery, khtonic mystery. Some would say he has little need of it - he is a Peerless healer, with steady hands and mind like volcanic glass. Still, there are times when only a miracle will suffice, And Asklepios is a saver, a giver: how could he keep it all to himself? He brings them back. He orders Thanatos to retreat With the quiet confidence of one who has Sunlight inside his veins. But his limits find him When the Lord Below and the Lord Above agree that enough is enough, And strike him down. "All things end" - the ash whispers; The serpent slithers away with it's strange magic. The father rages: this murder, equally just and unjust, Must be avenged: so avenge He does, and one tale leads to another. But the son... oh, mortality is a harsh lesson, But even this ends: He rises strong out of cold embers, Like a red bird, as He did at His first birth. Clothed in a skin immortal. Older, wiser but still A healer. Still stubborn, with piercing eyes, Too smart for His own good. Truths, understood too late, Are silver hairs in His unruly mane. Pain and hopelessness run like rats From the God. May His touch reach you. After all, some miracles Are small enough to be allowed. Snakes have their ways.