it was dusk when we saw them fall.
ashen figures of glory and beauty,
as mortals we watched the immortal
you turned to me,
a slight smile on your face,
and asked, “who will we now worship, brother?”
God has destroyed our gods,
and they bow before us like craven creatures
of the low earth.
but we are from the highlands.
we will not continue to worship stone,
we are gods.
we will worship flesh,
we will erase the memory of the former gods.
we are better.
we are more beautiful.
we are worthy.
look how the children wave their branches,
and mothers spread cloaks in the street
to welcome us.
but we have not come on colts or donkeys.
we ride in on Bugattis.