And in the greed, accompanied, by the riches, fame, and love,
There came about, with so much clout, an ending from above.
For fickle are they, of whom I say, naught save that they are the gods,
Against him so set, not to him let, changing to their rods;
When greatest sin, had come to him, and wishes laid to hem,
Had overwhelmed the e’er small realm, commanding he to them.
For in their den, there had so been, a case as this before,
With man proclaiming, himself naming, greater than the lore,
Gods not be right, said with contrite, and laid upon their feet,
Demands of woods, and clergied goods, from out from in the sky,
Never once, in all their dunce, asking of them why;
Why wreak hell, and thereby tell, our greetings to Her Grace,
Why demand, implant quicksand, into the human race?
Indeed in might, perhaps of fright, the gods returned their queue,
With detailed words, sent via birds of heavens bold and true:
Why ask**h thee, from ye’ to me, of such a pointless task?
Our efforts failed, when such was taled, when you in yourself bask.
You are men, brought forth again, in order to remain,
Lesser than we, and as that be, staying under rain.
08-Dec-2008 21:49:58
