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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Nero the god! I had a dream. There I was at the foot of Mount Olympus. Mother was with me as usual. As we reached a cross-roads, Agrippina said: "Come Nero, here we turn left" But I said: "No, mama, 'WE' do not. I'm gonna turn right!" And that's what I did. She shouted after me: "Become emperor, Nero, though you slay me". The path led upwards toward the snowy heights, past the lush vernal pastures of the lower slopes, past vineyards and groves of olive trees, through forests of oaks, birches, willows, elms, yews and poplars and all holy trees, past the crags where the chamois chewed stunted grass, and the last brave wind-blasted pine tossed and raged in defiance of the elements, I ascended, till there was no other thing under heaven but burning, blinding snow, a conflagration no less fierce than that which now I see. I looked down at the world of men, and what should I see but -- ants! The air was thin and pure - then the prize! The summit appeared from behind a cloud-rift. Treacherous thoughts welled up from within me: "High climbers play with death – death by freezing, death that lurks in the shadow of a measureless abyss. Was I not trespassing on holy ground? ‘ “Remember Icarus, remember Prometheus," sighed voices in the wind, but then a louder voice from within me bade me fear no counsel fit for the craven. And so to the summit. And what should I see when reached the Olympian heights,’ other than .....fierce Jupiter? Mighty Zeus? I'll tell you what I saw! There seated on an ivory throne, a frail old man, whose long white beard fluttered in the wind. His expression was more torpor than aught else. That was it! He looked rather like... some doddering old patriarch that was Consul before Caesar's time. As I approached, he tried to look grave and austere, pathetically shaking his hoary senile head. His trembling hand reached down – I saw a quiver full of arrows and a pile of thunderbolts at his side.’[ Now was my chance! I seized him by the scruff of the neck, and flung him down the mountain-side. The last I saw of him was as he reeled head over heels into a ravine. Then I shouted in triumph to the four winds. "THE OLD GOD IS DEAD. Now I'm Top Dog. I got de thunderbolts". Only a dream? Perhaps. Dreams pass, but not what they portend.
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