I am God, illuminated by a flashlight’s glow,
tired after this long week.
The tiny shrimps below
do not know it is their death I seek.
The spear is poised to strike,
it is Zeus’s lightning in my hands.
My subjects are all so alike,
hopefully their taste won’t be as bland.
However, they are quicher than I thought.
Their defiance shows audacity,
but this escape is all for naught,
for I pursue them only passively.
Oh no! A reminder of reality;
I hear the dreadful warning beep.
I must return to my mortality;
I have dove too deep.
Dylan Moore, February 2, 2009
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