As words tend to repeat, some please, some not. We speak now of another goddess. Not known for lovely face, grace of a body, nor wildly spreading greatness. Only for that the powers of oneself powers, are oddly powered by themselves.
How? when love and lust, come together and create the lines of future bloods.
Some by time, as others come as a miracle. Each are strong. It is how it is. Nothing more, nothing less.
Heqet, oh what power you have. What love must coat your body from others who see and speak of golden welcomes of the life you made.
But alas, how does a little toad as you, take in the pain to others who were far ready for new life. It was evenly seen as force, covered in a mess of red, thick, and angry lust.
How does one plead in front of higher gods?
Words echo, over and over. Loud and clear, yet hollow and fading.
Little, tiny, green Heqet, take it for what it is. All make mistakes.
Mistakes that lead to grieve or graciousness. It’s how you play it, Heqet.
From how the lore has come to quickly becoming from the breath taken. The game has become fair. Justice? No. But vary for what it is, nothing comes lowly to those futures of becoming life. Near it be, a future that splits in halves.