Boys of our grandfathers
Men of our fathers
Heroes of our brothers
Gods of our time.
Selflessly sitting on the iron reigns of power
Protecting it from men who aspire to be heroes.
No!!
None shall pass
For the gods still reign.
Only their faithful
Their very own godlings
Who never became heroes
For the ichor of man made gods
Flow through their veins
Falsifying their claim to the throne.
But,
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown
The time of the gods are over
I sense the change in the flow of the winds
In the paths of the river new stories are told.
The heroes of then were good men
But Power corrupts, and the gods the most corrupted of them.
Now we seek new men,
Whose tale would be spun
As their duties are paid
Whose accolades would be won, as they defy the old gods.
For there is a shift
And it is coming
Like a speed of lift
Without the fingers been lift
This generation will enjoy a new shift.
Very interesting piece of poetry.
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Great poem. Lovely.