This must make it clear between us, Anonuevo, or else there won't be much sense behind the words: "Let there be light!"
Yes, I behold you here, at my threshold. You grace me with this, your odd, aggregate loveliness. I smell it from you, the scent of all my mornings. You wear the sound of all cocks crowing, the solemn gravity of every dew, and the countenance of a bud. My heart surges to the promise of the sun on your head and the storms hanging low on your neck, covering your globes. I look at you until I see the expression of an expansive, blank leaf on your face. My blood froths the ink of tomorrow.
I greet you, Anonuevo. Hail, salutations and all! I tell you what should be posited at the commencement of our association. Tonsil and tongue, blood and saliva, fists unclenched into firm palms: now I can tell you.
Do not be gentle with me. Not now, not ever. Not at all.
I order this and invoke the name of your first creator: Janus. Upon the singular name of the dual Janus, lord of doors, god of causeways, master of beginnings and endings, I command you Anonuevo, daughter of passage, obey me! He created you by foreseeing you with his first face. Soon, in a year's time, he will look back at you with his second face. With the eyes he wears there, he will reduce you to a pedestal of salt and carve you into memory.
Now, in the space of our forever, I have you, in the distance between the faces of Janus. I have you and you have me, between the distance of his eyes. We are contained by his voice, between the creak of the opening door and the thud of its closing.
Anonuevo, my pretty Proteus, dance in the stillness of our shared limen. I see you between queued ants and proud Myrmidons; I see you between dragon's teeth and five engenderers of Thebes. You are in the passing of things. Pass through me and our struggle will define us. I perceive you, dear homunculus of time, the bride of the artificial monster.
I will take you from one state to the next, beloved. I will teach you progress and degradation! Obey me. Take again, my first commandment: do not be kind.
Do not spare me! The Three Weird Sisters wove serpents onto your hair and stapled scorpions on your nails. Come, engage me. Attempt, you must, to numb and embrace me. Come Anonuevo! Let us dance and enter each other, the Fate and the fated. It will be rough and the beauty will spill forth from power. We will see, after the blood and fire, how we will become memory.
I will parry your thrusts and paint the Furies on your face. Take the next step. Use your fair thighs of high winds and deep rivers! Spring forward! Lunge! Do not worry if I fall. I will always seem defeated. Forge on with your blows and lashes. We will conquer.
And the next step. And the next. There, I've crafted your war face, Anonuevo. Now, do not let your blows relent while my tongue lashes.
There is one last thing to say before the letting of intestines. Bend one last time, then never again. Take the final commandment: be happy.