valhalla weeps

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"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.








Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden

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