The voyeur thought often of death,
enthralled as Deathless Ones are.
The face that ended a million lives,
deaths senseless and glorious (as all deaths).
Mortals dance teetering on the brink of Tartarus,
a slip from the Underworld.
Why not kill them,
who live only to die?
A gentle shove to watch them fall,
a relief he would never know.
Death blisters the heels of life,
but the God of Death does not run the race.
No light without dark,
no life without death?
He envied the certainty of their fate,
the God of Oracles can not see his own future.