once more the candle flickers
and dies
no gust of wind to fan the flame
and I stand riveted
Prometheus to a rock
the flesh slowly peeled
by carnivorous talons
hungry for new-blood's breath
chains without keys
rattle
in defiant rage
scorching the night
reverberating
thunder
to awaken the gods
hammering the gates with fired-lead fury
but there is no response
from Olympian heights
as the final dying echo
falls like a raindrop
in a puddle of silence.