Fire Giver

Long ago, before good or evil or knowledge, man lived in a dark cavern,

Not ashamed by his nakedness, he wandered the Earth, the desert, the plains

The tundra, the forest. He wondered not, yet–like all things–he did yearn

To assert himself over the cruel wilderness and its countless domains

That severed the cords of his heart to the gods; which could be mended

By the element of fire which simmered and sputtered in the workshop

Of Hephaestus atop the Mount; it was there that Prometheus apprehended

The dancing flames in a clever gambit to, at long last, put a quick stop

To the guilt that tormented his dreams and–in day– held hostage his eyes

At last man was united with the most pleasant and sacred gift of fire

And by its harsh and unforgiving light mankind was made wise

To its own senselessness, nudity, ignorance, pain, and ire

Prometheus wept at his work, and Zeuss called from above “Fire Giver”

“You brought eternal pain to my creation; now sacrifice your liver!”