Prometheus in Berlin

Written by Michael Wu.

.Cause I dreamt of infamy 

.In all that which came before 

.I shed my joy and bid my truths 

.For all which will have survived 

.Like an eagle finished in a broth 

.Some more savagery than others 

.Others much savory than some 

.But what a lonely soul, without any

.That pass for living, and any joy 

.In the work of his making, this present does not 

.Do him well. The gift of life clung to his bone

.And that angel who opened it long ago

.made him sad. I will write to him

.And, that season if it may, the paralytic will find his own.