Trigger Warning
Those antique gods
Are all gone now.
We have no more
Immortals to worship.
What is to come
Chiefly depends
On her indomitable will
And sustained swagger.
She advances swinging
An incorrigible sword
Dismembering lords
Whose souls will burn
And adroitly banishes
Those woebegone days
When ash-gray skies
Infiltrate our minds.