He is always there, wherever on the spectrum he is sitting that day, and he always backs
the winner. He attacked Britain many times before choosing to defend and then he built
up her Empire and took it away again, he was with the people in France and the USA
during the final quarter of the 18th Century, he was Red in 1917 Russia, returning when the
tide began to turn, he was left leaning after the First World War in Germany before leaning
as far right as he could barely fifteen years later, he marched with Mao through China, was
in the Bay of Pigs with Castro, he travelled with Che (leaving him abandoned in Bolivia)
and he was been here, there and everywhere in the Middle East throughout time.
The turner of tides, the maker of history, the despot, the revolutionary, the bringer of
democracy and fascism alike, Euranos rides again into whatever battle he can concoct.
In a darkened room he whispers into an ear and sets wheels in motion. Together they
build networks of followers, create plans, build an army and take on their world in order to
change it for what they perceive to be the better. Euranos doesn’t care about the ins and
outs. He sees only winners, looks ahead and backs those winners in whatever revolution
he’s brewing that week, “Victory, never death,” is his motto and, in conjunction with Mars,
his war machine is always better than the opposition’s in one way or another. Even if
that means, like in the Budapest and the Prague Spring, brewing up the trouble before
changing sides.
And then he walks away. He deals not in consequences. Only action. Blood and sweat,
not tears. And he turns his back, showing his coat tails without a word of advice on how to
continue for his knowledge is spent.
Euranos never grew up, you see. He always knew how to push over blocks but never
how to build them up. Now he does the same to people.
the winner. He attacked Britain many times before choosing to defend and then he built
up her Empire and took it away again, he was with the people in France and the USA
during the final quarter of the 18th Century, he was Red in 1917 Russia, returning when the
tide began to turn, he was left leaning after the First World War in Germany before leaning
as far right as he could barely fifteen years later, he marched with Mao through China, was
in the Bay of Pigs with Castro, he travelled with Che (leaving him abandoned in Bolivia)
and he was been here, there and everywhere in the Middle East throughout time.
The turner of tides, the maker of history, the despot, the revolutionary, the bringer of
democracy and fascism alike, Euranos rides again into whatever battle he can concoct.
In a darkened room he whispers into an ear and sets wheels in motion. Together they
build networks of followers, create plans, build an army and take on their world in order to
change it for what they perceive to be the better. Euranos doesn’t care about the ins and
outs. He sees only winners, looks ahead and backs those winners in whatever revolution
he’s brewing that week, “Victory, never death,” is his motto and, in conjunction with Mars,
his war machine is always better than the opposition’s in one way or another. Even if
that means, like in the Budapest and the Prague Spring, brewing up the trouble before
changing sides.
And then he walks away. He deals not in consequences. Only action. Blood and sweat,
not tears. And he turns his back, showing his coat tails without a word of advice on how to
continue for his knowledge is spent.
Euranos never grew up, you see. He always knew how to push over blocks but never
how to build them up. Now he does the same to people.
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