Ascend to Mount Caucasus and witness Prometheus,
Aloneness fulfills his heart; Ethon pricks his poor pate,
An unruly doom held for the most striking sire of the fire,
Alas, the choir denotes a fate for his audacity judged amiss.
Hubris! Zeus’ detestation for mankind’s undying prying,
Implying that the finite might materialize beyond the wise,
Cries echo from Hera of the duplicity, vigilant of a heifer, Lo,
Oh, hidden by tricky Bosporus, the lustful ox was underlying.
Relying on Prometheus to direct the desired maiden, forbidden,
Again, an eminent one plants a fruitful seed, an honorable deed,
His creed reprimanded by his prosperities; nay, heed Heracles,
Such glories sung louder than Prometheus’ kindness and Zeus’ sin.
When legends of compassion are tethered with assent to men’s essence,
The evanescence of each intention will disperse with mankind’s insolence.