The Gods Are Dead

A poem hinting at human crisis'.

The Gods Are Dead

The sun

The sky

The clouds above

Illuminating a picture

All too familiar

The sureness of all

That the heavens may not soon fall

Onto those that believe they can support it

As pillars as great

As those of Athens

The marble priceless

Like their own delusion

Even the gods eventually fell

To face a fate quite like Hades

Still if you do not believe

That the earth could fall from the feet

That solemnly support you

And  the sun could come

Crashing down

Like a missile

Like a bomb

Like something radioactive

That the clouds could condense

Into a thicket of smog

So enshrouding

So invasive

That none could escape

That the sky would  rain down

Flaming and full

Of disparity so enduring

That as it crashes the world lights up

To meet the end

If you believe your arms so strong

To hold in your hands

All that cannot be controlled

Than go forth

And tame not the lion

Nor even the sphinx

Though instead find the titans

For the gods are dead.

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Mortal and weak. That is who we are. The dust of stars in the backwaters of the Universe. By ourselves. Sinking. Slowly. Bailing the water, but knowing we can't win. No one notices as we slowly disappear beneath the dark and ebony waters. It takes but seconds in the eons of existence.

Rick

[Chris]

Thank you for the comment, constructive and applicable to the message of my poem.