But a shadow of the man,
Barely a shade of human.
(Ask Kharon.)

****-light
shining raggedly through
perceptual refractions
twice that of normality.
The twinkling
of dead-stars,
A thousand sons
to his beating heart; the death drum
rung, thunderous,
Like storm-clouds hum
before Zeus throws down:
Echoes of power, deep-sound.

In this half-life
we are left to choose.
Dust, light and fire consume.