Apollo’s War

The voyeur thought often of death,

enthralled as Deathless Ones are.

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The face that ended a million lives,

deaths senseless and glorious (as all deaths).

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Mortals dance teetering on the brink of Tartarus,

a slip from the Underworld.

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Why not kill them,

who live only to die?

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A gentle shove to watch them fall,

a relief he would never know.

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Death blisters the heels of life,

but the God of Death does not run the race.

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No light without dark,

no life without death?

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He envied the certainty of their fate,

the God of Oracles can not see his own future.