Ouroboros
Deaf...
Deafeated...
The fire gone, water earth air
Merely considerations for mighty Nomos,
The great Dragon perched upon the Caucasus,
Peering knowingly into the bland abyss,
Watching Promethius, beckoned daily to
Rise again, despite the terror
Awaiting him come dusk.
Steely eyed, curled swiftly, ready to pounce
To curtail the ills of human misery,
Knowing too well of his presence is but an
Abomination, cause and the savior of grief.
"What majestic beast will save these creatures
From themselves? They rule the land, sea and now the sky,
They carve them all between them unequally, and claim
Nature as the reason for their spoils."
"What creature owns the sea? Even the largest suckles the seas
Wonders without disturbance. What land animals want more than
To live? What skybird beconds to own more than the majesty of flight?"
"What a terrible mess they make, groping for meaning
Amongst such a rich graveyard... they discover ice age after
Ice age and ne'er the cause."
"God after god they invent, kill, murder, assimilate, pause to recognise,
Yet still chase simple paper and terrified ethics - the few that postulate
A better method are the weaker sex, yet clearly refute the possibility
That their own sporn won't be the cure."
"The old geographers were correct to note that 'here there be dragons';
There were. Now they are lost - the old caretakers have gone,
May the new dragons do better than we did."