Hundreds of years the gods did party,
Playful and bored on their hallowed mount,
With delicate fingers they carved the lands,
With idle glances they struck men down,
Their puffs of breath leveled cities,
Their silly games started wars,
On high they viewed the destruction,
Oblivious and immune to the pain,
Content to watch the proceedings,
With twisted and aloof amusement,
Their anger and petulance sustained them,
Gave them lazy pleasure and content,
But they toyed with their puppets too callously,
Till the people--the eternal play--betrayed them,
Thus the procession of revolution was begun,
A pained and sorrowful demise,
With disbelief these deities learned there is no 'sacred',
No eternal and no mountain too high,
For neglect is the harshest of punishments,
And forget wields an immortal sword.
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