Poem By Dennis A. Zelazny
The darkness. The darkness at noon.
Prometheus, filled with compassion,
Filled with regret for the lost souls of the earth,
Is brooding above the gloom.
He knows that nature is blind,
An unrelenting dark force,
Proliferating endless species.
His will wants to cry halt;
His imagination wants to bring forth
The light of the transformative day.
Men, stupid and brutish, once dwelt in caves,
Fearing and worshipping darkness.
Prometheus stole fire from heaven,
Stole the flame of genius,
And with it kindled the human will.
The torch, passed down through the generations
To the present, has grown
Rather than diminished in brightness.