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Best, Prometheus
My dear eagle,
I do not abhor you, though I may have spat your name with bitter curses
We are bound in the same chains
Just because you do not struggle
Because you cannot feel them bite against your neck
Does not mean they are not there
You think you are like them because you fly
You think you are closer to a god on Olympus
Than a man, chained forever to the ground
But we men see, and so to do the gods, that you are more mortal than those you rip each day to pieces
You say you are free,
But do you choose each day to consume me?
To tear my liver from my body,
to decimate your own brother
Do you do this out of love for your uncaring master?
Or because you know, deep in your chest, that if you do not it will be you who lies in my place
Limbs splayed in agony
Gut a grotesque display for those who watch from below
A cautionary tale
But let me tell you, my dear eagle
Though I suffer, still I smile
For the spark I stole cannot be extinguished
The wisdom I shared cannot be forgotten
It spreads across the earth, a quiet blaze
The people’s rage
Is not for you, but for your master
He who clips your wings with your pitiful consent
Though you, like so many, masquerade as a god you can never be
Harm your people as the gods do to protect from their own wrath
I, like so many, despite this futility, raise my chin
And spite the gods with undying breath
Copyright ©
Ilaria Hobbs
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