Prometheus Ends in Onan

There are those for whom terror is the best god
Past invoked from the sacrificial pit of the present
The false foundations of palsied certainties
Firing at dials to stop the day
Look how your earth is withering
Worn out like a garment
What was foreseen long ago now cannot be believed
Long-haired Apollo emerges from the cask of Seleucia
The altar of victory is hidden away
The newborn ground gives way to death
The vine fails
Thе olive tree cheats us
The burning fiеld withers
Our bones are dry
Our hope is drained
We are cut off