It’s only a longing

I hold my cup up to the sky
A drink to quench impossible thirst
It pours in stories, on the sly

Ambrosia meant for gods – but why?
I wait for life on Earth to burst
I hold my cup up to the sky

A privilege divine, meant to deny
insights to denizens of Earth
It pours in stories, on the sly

What do they fear, or want to hide
tools of control, who came first?
I hold my cup up to the sky

Why do I ask, and why do they lie
Scripts that predict only the worst
It pours in stories, on the sly

We wrote gods to help us untie
knots of existence – blessed or cursed
I hold my cup up to the sky
It pours in stories, on the sly

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W3 Prompt #229