The Gods Will Envy Death

When there is naught they’ve yet to taste, when there’s no beauty in a pretty face, when every run has already been raced, the gods will envy death. When mortal children, brave and bold, with aching joints grow grey and old, and parents watch with weathered souls, the gods will envy death. When worshipers dwindle in time, find new deities for their sacred rhymes, then cast them off for the next in line, the gods will envy death. When august power is pared to myth, and used to entertain children with, in pulpy tales spun by wordsmiths, the gods will envy dead. When times races on with greater speed, when there remains no undone deed, when blasé about fear, desire, need, the gods will envy death. When they stare upon our mortal fate, and pray their own lives would abate, to free them from their endless weight, the gods will envy death. But death will not be coming…