Hephaestus

Something sweet, I guess

The worlds that I've built, the saints from the sands
Clutching iron tools too tightly in wrinkled old hands
The darkness I've balanced so delicately with the light
Peering into the depth-less ages with such a grand and mystic might

The aeons I've spanned and the waters that flow rife
From my open mouth birthing and sustaining life
Flesh, muscles and bone hewn seamlessly to one
The sky that shields you from the precarious balance of the sun

The evil that men do and the grace that angels sing
Every last pauper, plebe, noble and king
My glory shines as the constellations constructed from my own
The first murder committed with my very back-bone

I stacked stone upon stone and buried all the past
So that we may have a future and one that would last
But in all my revelry, I'm a prince of Madness, for it's true
That in all my glory, I could not create you