Valhalla Weeps

"There is nothing in the desert ... and no man needs nothing." - TE Lawrence ~ providence … vast-upon-vast ... Deucalion, gifter of cities, met do you not now see your charge? 'tis upon the peaks titanium white - aching, ancient arias borne by a thrush find their proper reports amid canyon vaults built by the hand, Prometheus to press and place columns, grand and gilded of the sun this, this is where gods weep fury bound by the faults of human calamity … an eye, sapphire streaked and damp with dour bounces reach-to-reach on the morn scraping stars away with bitter disregard … despair not, in its dazzled gaze for the fiery fells are given god-to-godless, thus his pleasure is to dance for their sobrieties and give supplement to their vain and vapid adoration sad Prometheus, father clothed in only pity clasped to you by blood and progeny's err … for the little beasts who beg of his portions and their seed - 'tis a weep, barren ... the ruin of man.