The gods know what we think of them.
But we know very little of how they think of us.
Are they pleased with our progress?
Or are they saddened by the how much their children are divided?
They couldn't have predicted this.
Is the state of our world now what they intended?
Or do they look down on us and balk at what we have become?
Looking down their noses at their failed creation.
Surely they did not intend for the for the world to be this way.
Maybe they have abandoned us.
Maybe they wish for us to see the light,
and call out to them once more.
Not begging for the death of our enemies,
but how we can fix damage we have done.
But who are we to assume the opinion of those so far beyond us?
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Whispers of Old Gods
PoesíaOld Gods still speak to some. In fragments of thoughts of memories. Their words make sense to few. Muddled by time, like weathered stone. This is a collection of random unrelated quips.
