The Heart of Mekhane 3

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Holy Hymn to the Heart of Mekhane

dated to approx. 1700 BCE, trans. from Hittite Cuneiform, A. Sprague

I have seen it all, and I will tell you of its story,
For knowledge was never meant to be hidden.
I will tell you of the three sons of ben Adam,
Undying and remnants of the Antediluvian times
when men and monster walked upon the land
in forests old, on streets of gleaming stone.

Of the Heart that rests still now in the Depths,
Broken and Fractured but no less Divine, and
of the third Son who came to late understanding.

Yet not too late to make things right.

It was ben Adam who dug in the loamy dirt,
granting purchase to the remaining seedling
of bronze and the holiest of leaves, letting it
grow with reverence and worship as its ever
nourishment, the trunk made strong by the
devotion of ben Adam's youngest son, Seth.

Elder sons had gone to ruin already,
seeking knowledge forbidden to man, finding
danger beyond the Garden that Seth kept.

Secret.

Safe.

While Ab-Leshal raged and Qayin remembered, it
was Seth who kept the Tree watered and apart
from those who he feared would fall to chaos
if they were to gain its knowledge.

For Flesh is weak, and prone to destruction.

Every night, Seth went to the Garden to tend to
the Tree, the memory of before the Flood kept
alive in its metallic roots as surely as so much
else had been lost to the time, to the waters.

Hail! Son of ben Adam, keeping the Garden in
its safety, the ichor of the river preserving Her
life after the fracturing of Her body.

The ground itself remembers Her even now,
and weeps.


Seth held himself and the Knowledge of the
Tree apart from even his own kin, for he knew
the burden of its knowledge was great. He had
watched it destroy his brothers, to change Hevel
from defender to adversary, Qayin sundered and
cursed with knowledge too heavy for a man alone
to bear. Yet Seth continued to conceal the Garden.

One man, alone.

But one day, Seth's grandson followed him to the
Garden, and soon all of the son of ben Adam's
kin knew of its secrets and how for so long he
alone had known.

"You told us of its destruction!" they wailed, for
the man had lied to them.

"You hid its Truth from us, and we might yet
live eternal, without fear!" they wept, for they
had been deceived.

"Let us have the Tree!" they cried, for they
even now cried out to Her broken body for the
divine they thought never to reclaim.

Yet Seth said no and returned to the Garden,
demanding they cease their pleading. For he
knew what the knowledge would bring, what
had happened in the Garden to ruin the souls
of his kin.

Even now the fires were sung of in tales around
the campfires, the destruction his brothers had
left in their wake.

Seth alone would bear the burden, the temptation.

Yet it would not always be so.


For generation after generation, they came to
the Gates of the Garden, pleading with Seth,
son of ben Adam for some small knowledge to
bring them closer to Her, though they did not
yet know the name of who they sought.

And Seth, succored by the Tree, no longer
requiring to sleep or to drink or to fill his belly
imparted what he felt safe to tell his family,
for the blessing of the wisdom was upon him
and though he told them to hide this knowledge
away, they did not.

For knowledge was never meant to be hidden.

They came, seeking Her by so many names;
to find Hakhama, Sophia, Mekhane, but he turned
them all away, lest they fall to the same fate that
his people had, so long before.

Yet She could not be called forever and not answer.

For the first time in an age, Seth found himself grow
tired, and against the trunk of the Tree he had so
vigilantly protected for so many years he slept.
In that dream, She stood before him, in full Splendor.

Unbroken. Unbowed. Whole.

"My child, those who come to seek me, why do you
turn them away?" Her voice echoed with compassion
and stilled anger, for she was disappointed in him,
and where he knelt before her, Seth trembled.

"Do you not know that this Gift was to be Given? To
protect those who fall to the Flesh, so they may find
comfort and succor? You fear that the knowledge will
be too much for them, yet is it for you?"

Seth's voice quavered, for he understood the hubris
that had been rooted in protection had harmed those
that She loved, and he had failed Her.

But the Great Voice was not unkind, and she knew
that the errors of Seth were rooted in the Curse of
the Flesh, not his soul. She took pity upon his prone
and abject form, and once again bestowed Her blessing.

He began to change from within, metal replacing the
primitive decay in order to preserve her child.

"Behold."

When he awoke, the Tree, previously without blemish
or etching, now housed a font which the Divine ichor
now could flow and Seth, at last, understood.


And thus began the worship of our Broken God, She
who gave Seth the ichor to preserve us, Her most
precious children from the curse of the Flesh.
He healed those who cried out to the Tree in need,
healing the sick and peace to those without rest.

Through the miraculous sap of the Tree, with time
Her children began to change, some fearful of the
mechanisms which replaced their weakened and
frail flesh, others grateful as the strength of the Tree
became manifest on their skin.

Seth brought assurance to Her children that this
was the true Gift. Not to hide knowledge out of the
fear of its danger, but to improve each life through
Her divine mechanisms, to create the most perfect
machine, mankind designed as a united Whole.

And thus, they became as the Anvil which they
once had thought to reforge Her shattered body,
their faith the Hammer to bring witness to her power.

Hail Hakhama! Hail Sophia! Hail Mekhane!

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