Enûma Eliš

[Leanne]

When high heaven yet was named,
and the waters weren't yet tamed,
then from chaos all was claimed,
and molded to their great design.
Imposing order from on high,
though truth was always there,
arrogant power their reply,
in truth, they did not care.
“To act is sin, to sin to die.” -- this first section has a wonderful chant-like feel, and sounds as though it's directly quoting the Enuma Elis, though I'm sure it's not, except for the paraphrasing of the first couple of lines. It makes a very effective setup, giving the gods a callousness that they perhaps deserve.
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Insanity sleeps next to my feet,
as my hands seek to avoid the humidity
caused by my tears seeping through these pages, -- this line strikes me as a little awkward, how would you feel about something like "from my tears as they seep through these pages"? Just to avoid another -ing and add a little regular meter
molding words into blackened obscurities;
stealing away the only distraction in this -- lots of -ings, and I'm not sure any longer if it's the tears "stealing", the hands or the insanity.
my unjust and shameful exile.
Such is the price I pay for aiding fools -- you probably don't need "I pay" here, it's implied by price
who in their ignorance see help as bane;
seeing what I gave freely as a treasure to be stolen, -- see then seeing, perhaps another word might be better?
and my only reward for giving away my heart
is their nescient contempt, hidden behind a smile. -- nice and bitter

Depression, Dread, my old friends have come to call on me again,
as though they had been away, on some midsummer’s holiday.
Actors they are. Pretending they are not,
just as surely as I, locked
in this cell of the ever enduring unendurable.
Although not alive, they seem more so than the faces of the past, -- this is quite awkward and overly telly, perhaps "They are more alive than the faces of my past"?
forced through obligation to visit, so they will not appear -- who is forced, your "old friends" or the "faces"?
to themselves, as evil; or worse yet, unkind.
So as sacrifice to the altar of Sicyon do they come, benumbed. -- nice alliteration and assonance in this line
Did I ever know them? It is hard to imagine;
we have so little in common.
I often wonder this, as a pale face floats in front of me,
murderous dark red lips flapping, as though air moving in slow -- is "red" needed? It seems one modifier too many
motion as it leaves the thick overlapped rubber exit of a balloon.-- I think "rubber" is implied by "balloon"
I would as soon not watch these grotesques expunge their senselessness,
but I find myself overly fascinated by their inane hollowness, -- "but I find myself" seems redundant to me, what about simply "I am"?
and in my loneliness I cannot force myself to turn away;
it has always been my greatest failing, so they say.

I am Prometheus and they are my eagles, my crows.
I watch their liver coated viper’s tongues dart
in and out of their mouths; an adder tasting air. -- these are wonderful lines, great allusions
Testing to see which way the wind blows. -- I'm not convinced this needs to have the period on the preceding line, as this line is not a complete sentence but rather a dependent clause, so I'd be tempted to just have "an adder tasting air/ to see which way the wind blows".
Come on then you belly crawlers,
would you sink you stainless swords into me, -- should this be "your stainless swords"?
so that you might bloody them like an unworthy knight
taking a virgin kneeling at prayers from behind,
that he might on the morrow claim his spurs? -- very evocative, even the mixing up of periods and mythologies is working here, blending it all together

What delusion! Do you think you can take what I choose not to give?
I gave you my heart, the fire that burned in my breast,
a pearl beyond price, a gift beyond all sacrifice.
Was that abscission not sufficient to calm your greed,
did it not for even a minute satisfy your orectic need?
Ah, I see. You have not the will or the courage to use it.
Did you not realize in your avarice that a fire must feed?
Yes, I see the fear in your eyes, you will not risk
feeding it what it craves, for fear of its reprise: a sacrifice -- the repetition of feed/feeding might need addressing
of your prejudices, your fearful misconceptions, your self-deceit,
your taboos, tightly held dogma, your false remembered heroic feats?
You fear it will pull down the defenses that keep
you from seeing things as they are,
and not as you would have them be.
You fear a Pandora’s box of incomprehensible truth; -- I'm not convinced at all that Pandora's box is relevant here, as there's no hope
beyond deception, beyond your control,
and outside of all your preconceptions.
If that is what you fear, then you fear true!

Did you think the power of a god came without price?
Have you not heard the old adage,
“with knowledge comes responsibility”.
Did you think it a choice?
When this fire burns, it consumes the dark deceit
so that it might illumine the multicolored truth
that sparkles ‘round and through all that is,
all that has been or ever will be, me and you,
with all robes of delusion striped away,
falsehood forever held at bay.
Color is the Lord Shiva of perception,
he is the destroyer of the black and white reality;
truth destroys the simplistic and the easy,
and it does so with an overawing finality.
Truth will freeze your soul into immobility
for it makes clear, all actions have unintended,
unexpected and far ranging consequence.
So if you would act, you cannot seek refuge in ignorance,
you will not be held blameless ever again,
for in everything, to act is sin! -- of all the stanzas, this is the one that could be most savagely pruned as it becomes rather self-indulgent and wordy

"For him who need never atone,
let him then cast, the first stone."

Sad, sad, I pity you, for you are truly pitiful.
Seeing the world from such narrow minds.
Here then, give me back my wild little pet,
give me back my beloved, my life, my honor.
Here in my heart she will feed and be content.
Now go away my picayune friends,
you are not yet ready for such wonderment,
or such a burden as this gift portends.
For the moment, the only light you will know
will be the monochrome of reflected light,
ghosting over the landscape of darkness,
this, the only light to guide your sight.
For the moon reflects the distant sun,
but is the sun no more than this,
that you and the truth are one.
For you who see only in black and white,
cannot comprehend the limits of your sight.
Go on then, my poor scared children,
scurry now, back into your own dark night!

"Old gods know not death, they merely go to sleep,
underneath the ocean, down to the deepest deep.
Be careful then, when in sin, a great noise you make,
you never know just what you do, or who you might awake!"

Some really interesting stuff here, Dale, and the dialogue is for the most part well maintained. I did find that the vocabulary became unnecessary complicated in parts -- while I have no problem with obscure words, I really do like them to be the best fit and as economical as possible, but this is a personal choice.