This was written at some point during the Spring of 2024

To be perfectly frank, it’s preposterously unlikely that Danny and Robin would find themselves strolling through the Everglades under the baking noon sun, but what is life if not unlikely? Robin had never actually seen an alligator in the wild before, so at least the novelty being surrounded on all sides by the wretched prehistoric looking creatures somewhat made up for an experience that could only otherwise be described as “sweltering.”

The pair arrived at a rickety old… tower? Yes, it was definitely a tower, though what on earth a tower was doing in the middle of the Everglades is certainly beyond any reason or rationale. Robin had suspected that Jeff would be late to the rendezvous, but Danny had held out hope that the drug dealer might be on time for once in his miserable life. Admittedly, Danny’s hopes were colored by a rather conspicuous degree of desperation — Danny didn’t particularly want to be kept out in the baking heat surrounded by gators any longer than was required.

Alas, Jeff was late to the meeting. And as ten, twenty, then thirty minutes went by, Robin eventually decided to break protocol and directly reach out to the slime bag via LT Sat. A bag of slime Jeff proved to be: having made contact, Robin learned that Jeff was in fact delayed by a solid two hours; Danny made no attempt whatsoever to hide his dismay.

The only bit of luck to be found near that tower in the Everglades came in the form of a shaded bench that was somewhat displaced from the heat and muck of the surrounding scene. Yet, to Danny’s undeniable surprise (and, to be perfectly frank, horror), Robin seemed to find the situation utterly energizing. Well, perhaps “energizing” is the wrong word, though no one could deny that Robin was anything short of upbeat.

“Well, looks like we’re going to be stuck here for awhile! Hehe, now you can’t get away from me!” teased Robin.

Danny was busy trying to ignore the fact that he was sweating through every layer of clothing he was wearing, but frankly that ship had sailed long ago. For his part, Danny would have been content to stare moodily off in into the plains of swamps that stretched out endlessly from the shaded bench until Jeff decided to finally show his mangy face. However, despite the heat, despite the gators, despite the sweat, there was one fact that trumped all: Robin was very, very attractive. And when one is a straight man being teased by an attractive woman, it deterministically follows that there is only a single course of action.

It’s truly somewhat absurd how cliche and formulaic life can be. Even in a moment as utterly absurd as the one in which Robin and Danny found themselves, like a dumb little pup, the sensation that predominantly colored Danny’s experience was one of attraction and desire. Dear lord, it’s so mundane that it would be boring — at least if sexuality weren’t almost inherently the antithesis of boredom.

Anyway, enough of that implicitly nihilistic commentary. The fact of the matter is that Robin clearly had something she wanted to talk about, and, despite everything, Danny was perfectly willing to humor her.

“You mentioned that when you were in Switzerland, you developed a kinda philosophical take on Christianity. What was that all about?” asked Robin.

“…huh?” responded Danny, with all the eloquence that single syllable can manage.

“God!” Robin said, clearly impatient “On the way here, you said that the reason you were in Switzerland is cause you were at that study center monastery thing.”

“Oh yeah, L’abri,” said Danny, collecting himself. “I’m sorry, what was your question?”

Robin closed her eyes and made a self-directed calming gesture with her hands, as though trying to cultivate the patience necessary to contend with a small child.

“You said that when you were in Switzerland, your stance towards religion and Christianity became more philosophical. Please elaborate” gently commanded Robin.

“Wait, you really want to hear about that?” said Danny, as most people generally didn’t have the patience for the chronology of his philosophical angst.

“God. Yes. You’re not the only one with an interest in philosophy” said Robin.

Internally, Danny was marveling at the fact that Robin’s degree of attraction had taken on an entirely new level — however, that’s entirely natural when one learns a pretty girl also has a philosophical bent. Frankly, this probably meant that Robin had read more of the great philosophers than Danny, but that wasn’t a part of his hand that he was about to reveal.

“Wow, ok! I was actually planning to write a blog post on this, so this should give me an opportunity to gather my thoughts!” said Danny, simply revving up at the prospect of having an audience for his religious musing.

“You have a blog? Well that’s— actually I don’t care. Please go ahead.” Robin placed her chin in her palms in a stance of mock attention, implicitly prompting Danny forward.

“Hmm… ok… where to begin. Well, ok, so I left Christianity back in the spring of 2020. I’m frankly too bored with that episode of my life to go into the details of it, but long story short, I was raised Christian, and I took it very seriously up until that point. It was basically vanilla, non-denominational Christianity, and it was basically like ‘There’s a God, Jesus died for your sins, having a relationship with him is the most important thing, blah blah blah.’ Long story short, I realized that I didn’t believe it. Didn’t believe there was a God, didn’t believe that he had a son who walked the earth, and whose life and death had cosmic significance.

“However, in cutting God out of my life in the spring of 2020, I basically had a worldview that was entirely shaped by the existence and presence of God… except now there was no God. So I got super nihilistic and depressed, yada yada yada. Basically, it reached a breaking point when I was in Mexico in the spring of 2022. At that point, I desperately wanted hope and community, and despite everything else— ”

Danny paused for a moment then rolled his eyes: “God, I’m so bored reliving this. I’ll just skip to Switzerland instead of monologuing about my life.”

“God forbid you do that” Robin said with a playfully mocking smile.

Danny laughed, then continued:

“Ok, skipping ahead to Switzerland. At that point, I had a resurged interest in Christianity, but from more of a psychological perspective. I had no interest in intellectually committing myself to a faith system. However, what really captured my attention was the following question: ‘Regardless of whether Christianity is true or not, it has captured the attention of billions of people through history. What is it about Christianity that resonates so deeply in the hearts of so many people?’ I was basically struck by the fact that so many people had had their lives transformed by Christianity. I wanted to understand that.”

Danny paused again, exhaling in exasperation. “God, I’m monologuing again. Well, at least I know what I can skip when I turn this into a blog post.”

“Wait,” said Robin “so you were basically just approaching the question of religion from a more psychological standpoint? Like trying to find why Christianity is so attractive to so many people? Mm, that seems a bit more psychological than philosophical.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda right,” said Danny, “though I guess I saw the two as being connected. If you take a more evolutionary perspective on things, then one could claim that evolutionary forces shaped the things that draw our attention. So, evolution is the bridge between philosophy and psychology — by looking at the things that shaped the psyche, we can make claims about the nature of being.”

“God, you sound like Jordan Peterson” laughed Robin.

Dear God, thought Danny, what doesn’t she know. Danny was perfectly aware that this particular argument was shaped by Jordan Peterson’s work, and was always somewhat hesitant to bring that up, given how polarizing Peterson had become in recent times.

“Yeah” admitted Danny, a bit sheepishly “I do. Frankly, I don’t really like bringing him up because of how irritatingly right-leaning he’s become in recent times, but a lot of my thoughts at the time were inspired by his work. He actually had a commentary on the book of Genesis in one of his books that was probably the most interesting take on Genesis I had read up until that point. I actually quite like his work, I just think that he’s really been captured by the right in a way that’s a little sad.”

“Sure” said Robin “skip to the part about Christianity and God. You become a true believer, or what?”

Danny laughed. “No, very much no, though I think there were times when I almost tried to convince myself that I was one. It’s actually interesting: at the time, I was so busy trying to intellectualize Christianity that I think some part of me forgot it’s a faith system… well, no that’s not true, but I certainly did get very caught up in the ‘natural theology’ approach to Christianity. The funny thing is that when I was in Switzerland, I actually did frequently talk to God… quite emotionally, if memory serves.”

“So you weren’t a Christian, but you talked to God,” said Robin slowly, “sounds… confusing.”

“Actually, no it really wasn’t,” said Danny, “My conception of God was just independent of Christianity. In fact, I read this book on the Hellenistic era after I got back from Switzerland, and I realized that my conception of God was actually pretty similar to how the greeks conceptualized him… well not ‘him’ per se, but rather something like the individuated principle that shaped reality. Lord, I’m realizing I haven’t read Plato in a minute.”

“Why did you talk with God then, if you took him to be a ‘principle’?” asked Robin.

“Hmm…” thought Danny, putting his chin in the palm of his hand, “let me see if I can articulate this. I think there were kinda two parts to that. First, I saw God as something like the highest form of good towards which reality was striving. I kinda see ‘talking with God’ as basically a practice of trying to best align my thoughts, intention, desires, and actions with that principle. I mean, language is a remarkably useful technology for concocting nuanced, yet decipherable thoughts, so by speaking with God, I was basically shaping my thoughts in a manner that allowed me to determine what might or might not be in alignment with that highest principle. Ok, then whole other side things was that I merely started to accept that there were aspects and processes of reality that were beyond my ability to conceive or understand, so by ‘talking with God,’ I was basically sending my words and thoughts out into the void, with some hope that they might be heard, in whatever capacity.”

“Well that sounds much more overtly religious,” challenged Robin, “but ok, I guess that’s somewhat interesting, even though it seems a bit silly to me. Do you still talk with God?”

“Well… no not really anymore. I suppose sometimes, but not in the way that I did in Switzerland,” said Danny.

“Why not? When did that change?” asked Robin.

“I think when I got back into the states from Switzerland. Hmm, let me think: I think basically I was so steeped in a community where basically everyone believed in God that God and religion were just a part of life for me in Switzerland. When I got back to the US, …I don’t know. I think matters of religion simply felt increasingly irrelevant to me. But I mean, practically speaking, in Switzerland, I was working with a worldview that I had essentially constructed independently. Well, not really independently because it was obviously inspired by the thoughts of many people and philosophers and religions, but I had my own language and my own frameworks for looking at the question of God and religion. But none of that was baked into the religious traditions and practices of more mainstream religions, so there really wasn’t anyone to share it with. This framework served me in Switzerland being surrounded by Christians, but it just didn’t really feel particularly important when I left that community,” finished Danny.

“God, the most important entity or being in reality, was no longer relevant?” poked Robin, somewhat sarcastically, also somewhat seriously.

“Honestly, yes,” said Danny, with an almost confessionary tone. “I had been in my head for so many years about these sorts of theological and religious questions, and I think it was finally when I got back from Switzerland that I sort of looked at my life and realized that all the intense introspection and wracking of my consciousness and intellection really hadn’t lead anywhere particularly useful. I wasn’t any happier, I didn’t feel like I was a particularly better person. I don’t know. I think that’s probably overly cynical, but at the same time, I think that’s when I stopped being so obsessed trying to describe reality and instead started wanting to just kinda live within it more.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I feel like that’s pretty much what every agnostic would say if push came to shove. Basically ‘yeah, maybe there’s a God that’s ruling everything, but I gotta put food on the table tonight, and God isn’t the one doing that, so who cares?’” mused Robin.

“Eh, I think it’s more than that. There are enough Christians in my life that are always wondering and asking what’s going on with me and Christianity that I basically just had to come to terms with the fact that I straight up don’t believe it. I don’t believe that there’s a God in control of everything that transmogrified himself into a human to save people from sins. The part of me that’s susceptible to religious belief finds that belief system attractive and nourishing, but intellectually, it just feels deeply, deeply wrong to me. Like no, I just don’t believe that” huffed Danny.

Robin didn’t immediately answer, so the pair just sat in silence, looking out over the swamp. There was a splash to their left as an alligator jumped out of the water, trying to catch something or other.

After about a minute, Danny stirred.

“I guess the one thing that really still just fucking… tickles me about Christianity is the sense of hope and meaning. I don’t know… it might just be because I was raised religious, but when atheists contend that there’s no ultimate meaning in life, like it’s just a bunch of random shit that happens and then we die… I just kinda hate that! I’m not attracted to that. I feel like it just lacks principle, and just feels so totally disconnected. Like, I was rereading through the gospels recently, and I realized that I wasn’t even particularly attracted to what Jesus was purporting to offer. Like he was basically just like ‘follow me, and you get eternal life.’ Like I don’t want eternal life! This life is already such a brutal struggle! Is that the carrot that you’re going to dangle over my head to get me to not cuss and watch porn? Not interested! But at the same time… I don’t know. That sense of hope and that sense of connection that I feel in Christian communities… or like not horribly toxic Christian communities. It hits different.”

After a moment or two of silence, Robin pulled her knees up and hugged her legs, then smirked at Danny.

“Cool bro.”

Danny snorted, then retorted “Fuck you.”

Robin laughed, and then the pair fell back into silence, waiting in the sweltering heat for Jeff to show his mangy face.

Nathaniel and Jackson were walking at the top of White Hill trail, about twenty minutes north of Marin. The view was pretty spectacular, all things considered. Our pair of lads were on top of a very large hill, and I’m just going to assume that this hill was named White Hill, what with the name of the trail and all. In any event, the top of White Hill grants hikers a pretty remarkable panoramic view of the surrounding area. If you look to the south, you can see the bay, San Fransisco, and all that jazz, and if you look north, you can see the dry rolling hills that seem to be pretty characteristic of much of the land immediately outside the bay. Superb.

Nathaniel and Jackson were alone on the top of White Hill, save for a pair of crows. These crows were flying around each other, dive-bombing each other, and were generally inseparable.

Thus spake Nathaniel:

“Wow, look at those crows! I mean, I know crows are supposed to be like super intelligent, but I mean, look at them — they look so dumb! Well, actually wait. Maybe that’s not true. If you look into that black orb of an eyeball you see a sort of cunning intelligence. Yeah, actually, I can totally see that those mother fuckers would be super smart.

“You know, I think it’s actually something different. I feel like humans anthropomorphize the living shit out of pairs of animals. Like as romantic partners. And I like can’t think of specific examples off the top of my head, but I think this is like especially true with birds? I can’t remember specifically, but I think birds are monogamous, or maybe like most birds are monogamous? Anyway, people get all romantic about animals finding their life partner, and it’s like ‘oh wow! That’s so meaningful and special! Look at those birds, spending life together!’

“But then, you actually get out into nature, and you get this up close and personal with a pair of crows, and it’s like ‘Shit. That is a pair of dumb animals.’ But like, not even dumb. It’s just that they’re just like way more primitive or something than people. These birds are just being driven by different primitive impulses towards each other. Mother fucking crows just want to fuck. It’s like not this deep, meaningful thing. It’s just animals following impulses that they’ve evolved over the span of time.

“But, ok, I’m being a cynical bitch. Again, I don’t know off the top of my head, but I feel like there are all sorts of stories of animals that get depressed when they’re separated from a partner or a friend, regardless of whether they’re monogamous. So what the fuck do you do with that? Like, I don’t know — I guess that sometimes people like talk about love as though it’s everywhere, and you can see its touch all throughout nature, or something. Like do these fucking crows actually fucking love each other?! It’s so easy to just kinda project this hyper-romanticized view of the world onto nature and be like ‘Yes! Even though this pair of crows might not be experiencing something as rich and nuanced as human love, yes, this is a pair of animals that’s drawn together by the closest thing that crows can feel to love.’ But then, dear god, just like look at them! Look at them right there! When you’re actually out, alone in fucking nature, this sort of anthropomorphized veil is ripped away from your eyes, and you just see nature as a thing that just kinda happened. Like these trees, this hill, it just kinda happened. Are each of these entities expressing some deep truth or archetype that colors all of reality? God, who the fuck knows! But, dude, I’m looking at those goddamned crows, and I’m seeing a pair of animals that have primitive animal instincts, and that’s all. I’m not seeing an expression of something fucking great and glorious.”

At this point, Nathaniel stopped walking and squatted down onto the ground at the top of the hill.

“Can I tell you a secret, Jackson? My name’s not actually Nathaniel, and I’m not actually here with you right now on top of this hill. My name is actually Danny, and I’m sitting in a dark room in front of a large monitor writing this, and who the fuck even knows why. I haven’t been writing a lot, and I think my main creative outlet has been software projects, and I guess it’s just nice to write words that maybe some people are going to read someday. Creating cool interfaces and projects is nice, but those are things that people use, they aren’t things that people read, and the only sort of communication that’s possible there is implicit communication between two people who get jazzed about an elegant solution to a technical problem. But these fucking crows! I was actually on top of White Hill only last week, and that’s when I saw crows like the ones we’re apparently watching right now, and it was just striking how like… dead-eyed these fucking birds looked to me. Like they were just fucking organisms following basic instincts. They were just things doing stuff. And yeah, that’s where I got the idea to write this blog post. I thought it would be fun to play with the idea of —”

Thus spake Jackson:

“Hold up there, Nathaniel. You’ve already lightly shattered the third wall, but we don’t want to totally spoil things for the reader. Dear god, and there goes the fourth wall too. I suppose that one’s on me.

“Hey Nathaniel, I know that you just identified yourself as Danny, the author, but remember that you were originally introduced as a character in this dialogue. We started out on top of White Hill, and we’re still on top of White Hill. So, buddy, I know that you can shatter all the different metaphysical and rhetorical walls and identify yourself with Danny, but you don’t actually need to do that right now. You’ve so brutally shattered yourself in the name of authenticity over the years — so much so that it’s almost the only way that you know how to live. But Nathaniel? You don’t need to actually do that. Right now, you’re not under attack. You’re not trapped. You’re not under the power of an abusive deity that purports to love you. Right now, you’re with me, your friend, Jackson. And we’re on top of White Hill, and it’s a beautiful day. Look at these views! Look out over the bay! Do you see these hills? These hills are wonderful! They just totally scream “California!” in a way that’s utterly intangible.

“Can I tell you a secret, Nathaniel? Danny actually doesn’t know anything about me. He was going to reveal that I’m secretly Solomon, and we were going to get into a really angsty fight over whether you should give credence to biblical archetypes, but guess what? I’m not Solomon. I’m just Jackson. All Danny and the readers know is that I’m your friend. So how ‘bout we just keep it at that?”

Thus spake Nathaniel:

Sike! Nathaniel actually stayed squatting for a good chunk of time, just sort of absorbing the scene, absorbing Jackson’s words, and absorbing the fact that he was, in fact, Nathaniel, and he was, in fact, on top of White Hill.

Thus spake Nathaniel:

“I’m trying to calm down my mind. There’s a part of me that desperately wants to know whether the love that these crows share is written in the Book of Destiny, or if it’s just some dumb, arbitrary fluke. It’s so boring to just be nihilistic and question whether everything is meaningless. It’s just so lame and masturbatory in like a pseudo-intellectual sort of way. It’s clear that these crows want to be together. Maybe that’s all I need to experience.”

Fuck perfection

I stand for the moment, though I will soon fall. Already my knees begin to buckle. The blood has reached my throat, and will likely begin choking me before I hit the ground. Though I felt it enter, I have not yet looked at the dagger, sheathed between the ribs of my left rib cage. I’m close enough to the priestess now that I can see her pale skin from beneath the translucent white veil. She still grips the dagger, though softly; almost as though she were holding a brush instead of a blade.

Though her face is expressionless, her eyes carry something faint: a trace of an empathetic apology nearly hidden by divine conviction. As I begin to stumble, she backs away, the handle of the dagger slipping through her fingers.

I have only moments until my consciousness fades into darkness, but this is time enough for man to hear the voice of the gods. But the gods have no need to speak with me, for their wisdom had entered my body on the blade of the knife that is claiming my life.

I know this dagger. I know it well. This is the dagger of That Which Stays in the Shadows, who has a form in the temple. Each time I’ve come to the temple to participate in the Honoring of the Sacrifice, I’ve seen the dagger being spun on the small alter, almost totally shrouded by the subsuming darkness beyond. The Hand that spins the dagger can never be discerned, but what else is there that might hold and spin the blade? And this dagger is no secret: the scraping sound it produces when spun on the alter can be clearly heard all throughout the temple.

Each time I’ve entered the temple for sake of ritual, I always turn my gaze from the dagger, always spinning, always on the edge of visibility. And though it’s impossible to know for certainty, often it seems that the gaze of the Form in the Shadows falls upon my face, its weight nigh overbearing.

I feel it important to note, for sake of those foreign to our lands, that the Form in the Shadows ought not be identified with evil. Though the darkness might overwhelm your sight, you begin to hear a sound like golden bells ringing in harmony when nearing the altar. The effect is a contradiction of the senses: though the darkness pools like the ink of monsters beneath the sea, the sound one hears from within is like Light woven into song.

But the sound of the divine does nothing to diminish the presence of the dagger, always spinning, always ready for use. And I have seen it used before, though the memory is too gruesome to recount with words.

I had come to the temple this day, not for ritual, but to receive the fruit of the Begreth. The Begreth tree is sacred to the temple, for its fruit carries a juice that strengthens the body to support and awaken the immortal blood that runs in our veins. Oh, the riches in store for me, once I had but eat of this sacred fruit!

The time was finally ripe, for I had reached the Age of Dawning. And thus I travelled to the temple mount, ready to claim my prize. The temple was silent, save for the scrape of the spinning dagger. Sometimes I could catch a glimpse of a priestess, silently flitting about the pillars, looking as much a wraith as an angel.

I strode to the depths of the temple, where I knew I would find the Begreth glade. And there a single priestess stood, a mere ray of light standing guard before the gate to the divine. For a moment, there was only silence, I standing on the threshold of the path to the tree. Then, with all confidence I could muster, I strode forward, an implicit request unto the priestess. The path was long, but as I neared she shifted slightly, almost as if beaconing me come forward.

I stopped two arm’s lengths from where she stood, obstructing my path. Despite my implicit request, she remained silent and utterly motionless. Undeterred, I eventually stepped to pass her, my gaze captured by the fruits I could see in the branches of the Begreth overhead.

Yet as I made to brush by her, she raised her forearm to the level of my ribs, something flashing softly in her hands. It was only when the dagger entered my body that I realized the scraping of metal on stone had gone silent behind me. The dagger was so sharp that I hardly felt it slide between my ribs, splitting my skin like cream.

Upon my first sharp gasp of breath, I knew the dagger must be suffused with the knowledge of the gods. As I felt its blade pierce my heart, my being was transfused with the Principle of Life. And as I stand here now, this Principle takes what life remains in me, and coaxes a vision into being, perhaps the last sight of my life.

Flashing before me, I see an image of myself once again entering the temple. I look to still be of the Age of Dawning, though when my vision-self reaches the threshold to the Begreth glade, he passes by without second glance, confidently striding to the heart of the temple. Eventually he nears the small altar, the dagger spinning, always spinning.

He stops a single arm’s length from the altar, and there he kneels. Immediately a shadow flashes from the darkness beyond, stopping the dagger.

For once the temple is totally silent, and this silence stretches on for an indeterminate span. But eventually, my vision-self speaks, his voice deep with calm:

“As my name is Terekk, then Terekk must die.”

When he speaks these words, the vision begins pulsing with the song that is heard in the Darkness, the song that sounds of Light. And my vision-self rises and grabs the handle of the dagger from the grasp of the darkness.

He closes his eyes, and places the tip of the dagger under his chest. And after the space of a single breath, he slides the dagger between his own ribs, in the same place where the same dagger currently takes my own life. The moment he does so, the song intensifies and the temple is filled with a soft, golden, yet penetrating life. Priestesses come flooding from all around and gather his body, blood gushing from the wound. They take him through the temple to the Begreth glade, laying his body in the soil next to the roots of the great tree.

Four priestesses now approach the tree, though they are covered in golden dress instead of the usual white. The four each take a fruit from the tree, and peel back the outer layer. Juice begins gushing from each fruit, more than one imagined a single fruit ever might contain.

But even as I watch this in my mind’s eye, I feel my life draining away. Even as the light within the glorious vision intensifies, so my mortal vision wanes.

I’m on the ground, though I don’t remember finally falling. In my final moments, I turn my attention back to the vision.

The priestesses have taken the peeled fruits, and are approaching the prone figure of my vision-self, his blood watering the glade. They stand symmetrically above his body, and each let the plentiful juice fall onto his skin, my skin.

I’m drowning in my own blood. I can no longer even draw breadth.

When his body is coated in the juice of the Begreth, it begins to glow and hum. The priestesses all around raise their arms and add their voices to the harmony.

My lungs pulse helplessly, my vision almost entirely black.

The glow fades from his body, then suddenly his shoulders flex and he—

What is this, before my eyes?

Form of beauty, dramatized?
The moment fresh in Autumn air;
Gaia's Daughter met me there.

Though she may be of the divine,
I glimpsed her once and twice ago.
But ne'er before has she so shined;

Immortal fire, yet soft as snow. 



Now man of flesh and blood am I,
Enslaved unto the mortal realm;
And thus I've sought from mythic eye
A vision that might overwhelm. 



Often Gaia hears my plea,

And renders visions unto me.
But never did I hope to spy
Gaia's Daughter, glorified. 



Oh, her eyes! Embodied song!
Oh, her smile! Like break of day!

And how am I to go so long,
Without her light to light the way?

But fully known and fully clear,
This mystery shall never be.
For we are two of different spheres,
Mortal against eternity. 



So shade my eyes from blinding light,
But keep my gaze above the ground;

Her servants are in mortal sight,
Gaia's Daughter, all around.

She's with and is her servants now;
This gift to Man the gods allow.
So then I ask to those above:
Which priestess shall I come to love?