Prometheus' Children

You who sculpted us from clay,
thick, trembling fingers
working water through the mud.
You who stole Olympus flame,
kept burning in your Titan fists
to stoke our hearth with fire.
You, imprisoned in bonds
of adamanite, for crossing Zeus,
for serving mortals' might.
You, assailed by eagles, 
beaks tearing red, encrusted
blood your sacrifice.

We live crudely in your shadow,
pens scrawling awkward
intimations of our soul.
We crave creative intuition,
godhood, Genesis achieved,
transmuting energy to art.
We long for heaven's height
while chained to mountains,
wings pinioned to our sides
in conscious ignorance.
We struggle, heart torn, beating,
God's luminous beak freeing
the sanguine ooze, our ink.

Scott Speck
12/18/99