Deep in the universe sits an infinite table
draped in a dark violet velvet table clothe,
and adorned with golden chalices, place settings, and serving dishes.
Every delicacy imaginable is laid upon the table
and the feast goers come and go whenever they please.
Invited to this feast are all the gods.
New gods, old gods, real and imagined gods,
and gods that are yet to be.
I cannot describe who’s there as death
comes for any mortal that dares to look
upon the true face of the gods, and at this feast
they all wear there true faces, but I can tell you
all the major gods are there and they
discuss how they manipulate man on their petty whims.
The gods are not the only party goers.
For under the table are select
representatives of man.
Shielding their eyes and dressed in rags
they cower under the table
picking at any scraps the gods chance to drop,
and exclaiming, “Isn’t it so wonderful
this bounty we are blessed.
The gods are so kind
to invite us to their feast.”
You’re wonder if the humans groveling
under the table
ever annoys the gods,
and it does.
They kick and stomp and mash the humans down,
but never too much and always make certain
to drop enough scrap to keep them in line.
For if the humans ever chanced to look up
they would see, those they believe to be gods,
are simply treacherous men.
And if they ever chanced to look around
they would understand they out number the gods,
and could take the feast for their own.
David Huzzard Writes 