"The Prometheus Gift"
a poem by G.E. Nordell


he stands alone on storm-tossed tor
no shield on sinewed arm
no sword in hand or slung on hip
he stands alone
and turns
descending to the world below

warm soil fosters life
in even rows and random glade
he walks without hurry
each step connected with the earth
farmers in their fields watch his passing
unaware they have ceased their work
wondering

the village surrounds a well
of sweetest crystal-cold
he stops for a drink of water
and to wash the sweat from his face
the peace of the village beckons
he sits against a cool stone wall
and sleeps
dreaming plans and purposes
and starlit summer nights

he wakes and finds simple sustenance at his side
and an audience of awe-struck children
he breaks bread, and smiles
and the children glow, daring to creep nearer
Prometheus and his gift
brought to us long ago

the tranquil green valley has since been paved
the village long forgotten
the spring sucked dry
concrete and asphalt now protect us from the soil
which is our source and fuel
and destination

but sometimes in twilight
or bird-chirping dawn
he walks alone again
thru other villages and towns
no shield on arm of sinew
no sword in hand or slung on hip
eternally passing on the light of love



Gary Edward Nordell May 1978, all rights reserved

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