To gods we are forgotten beasts
Whose only sacrifice is time.
We play, we suffer, pointlessly:
We know that look of weary rage.
If we were older, you and I,
A fight like this would seem absurd.
We’d sit together, spin our yarns,
And cling to deeds that once meant all.
I see the scars about your face,
The way you sway and hesitate.
You seem too heavy on your feet.
You don’t react, you hardly move.
No questions, cries or final words.
No mercy begged, no mercy shown.