Agra was a lonely soul, a distant god, a being whole
He was eternity and more, so what did he need others for?
He would create, as was his due, he saw the world, his project, though
A solitary being he, forever to be one, not we
What then becomes a distant god? Who, on his planet, never trod?
Who never saw beauty he made? Who'd never hear its accolade?
"Not even god should be this way." A single zebra came to say
Journeying through earth and stone this zebra took the path alone
Bags stuffed full of works and art, so much it more befit a cart
So many things all to show the surface world Agra could know
All sense would fail beneath the ground except, of course, the constant sound
The beating, carving, grinding wake the mighty craftsman ever'd make
The zebra found his cave at last, the god still at his mighty task
Sightless, his power still was felt, and so the zebra stopped and knelt
What came then were meager pleas uttered all while still on knees
Agra would not scorn nor laugh these reasons to see what he'd craft
In sightless dark, the art was left, for there its beauty was bereft
Desperate, the zebra told of home while god kept at his work, alone.
Story of love, of struggle, dread, all of the path the zebra'd led.
The zebra stopped, god listened not, and so left, all presence forgot
The zebra come home in defeat with naught to show but aching feet
So things continued for a time before the ground gave rumbling whine
The earth part and then Agra rose and then, behind, it once more closed
Before him stood a gorgeous mare, beyond any he'd been aware
He spoke words of great force and will, "I'd hear end of your story, still."
The zebra went with his demand, but all the while, she formed a plan.
She knew he could not stay too long, lest he allow his work go wrong
So she'd weave one tale to the next; the practice left the old god vexed.
Truly, he did leave after while, leaving the mare with a coy smile
She turned and ran as he retreat, confident they'd again meet
And so they did, again, again, Agra and, perhaps, his friend
He'd follow her each place she'd go and to beauty she'd have him know
And as time passed he'd move his cave. Before long, view of sky, it gave
Faster running over land, now travel gave views far more grand
All while, love for his people grew, and for his herald, more than he knew
And so there would then come a day when that brave zebra had her way
She took god's promise to always stay and take part in the beauty that, all places, lay
More, with no more fear he'd hide, she assented to stay by his side
So we recall her name with pride, Akasha, Agra's first bride