Ages ago we gave birth to the gods,
Lifting them from the dark depths of the heart
Like spectral wraiths, alive against all odds
And vaulting through the vast years with their art
Held forth like lanterns to beguile the mind.

Such are the wiles of men, who heap no shame
Upon themselves, for all their cruel lust,
Content to cloak it all in Heaven's name,
Knowing full well it lives here in the dust;
Such are the clever schemes of humankind.

Pity then the wayward soul whose will
Is set against the tyranny that still
Goes forth from those Olympian heights to bind.

Dread deities, you are but our own face
In sly disguise, a mask by which we hide,
Concealing the debauch of our own race
Known well to man and nurtured deep inside.

-- Donald R. Burleson

Copyright (c) 2019 by Donald R. Burleson. All rights reserved.