Prometheus sits alone and considers, <br />His wandering eyes, <br />And the flickering flames, <br />What would it give just to steal? <br />Or be given? <br />To take without mercy, <br />The joys of disaster, <br />The toys of destruction, <br />The gift of the gods unto man, <br />And man alone as the source. <br />Prometheus- <br />Why is it so? <br />Why do you trouble for good, <br />When such harshness befalls you? <br />The vanity of sincerity, <br />The cause of the falsehood, <br />That captures your waking breath, <br />And leads you into the interminable mire <br />The mire of solitude. <br />It is not for revenge or defeat, <br />Not for the turn of the key in the lock, <br />But for the mistakes, <br />That slip silently into place <br />And work with amorous indecision, <br />Against the plaintiff labourer, <br />To marshall the root of such pain, <br />Is at once both commendable, <br />And repulsive. <br />The heart of man lies, <br />Lies in the depth of vision, <br />And the wisdom of unfamiliarity, <br />The turbulence of the tempest, <br />And the wild vacuum of the soul, <br />Different- yes, <br />But not ethereal. <br />So created by man are they, <br />That even Prometheus, <br />Forgotten by his brothers, <br />It's rent apart by the very nature, <br />Of what he thought were beyond the grasp, <br />Of man's fleshy grip, <br />The concept of which, <br />Defeated even a god, <br />A god above man, <br />And so unworldly that eventual, <br />Poor Prometheus looks up, <br />And sees that far above his fallen Olympus, <br />The hosts of heaven smile down, <br />With the faces of men.<br /><br />Nick Hilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/outcry-over-modesty/
