gods

I heard the old gods still walk
the warming earth;
whisper their sweet breath
into the ears of children.
Their golden eyes
able to see into the bloodied heart
and know the root cause of the despair
we mortals contain.

I heard they wish still
to hold our weight,
to feel our discomfort,
to experience
the pain of death as a breath
blowing forever into our dreams.

I heard their anger
will not relent;
it is the single event they maintain
that pitches them
against our indifferent intent.