There remains in a remote corner of Asia
A mountain with inky roots.
Its age shows upon its icy brow
Like the rings of a tree trunk.
Some say this mountain is home to a wrathful sky goddess.
Others the abode of a reclusive god of destruction.
And still others believe it to the very point
Upon which the universe turns upon its axis.
No one has climbed this mountain.
The government does not let them because it is too
“Religiously significant.”
But I think no one climbs it out of fear
That Nietzsche was a true prophet.
And like their temperamental contemporaries
Upon Olympus, we may find
We have killed what remains of the gods of yore.
Forums:
Reviews
No reviews yet.