Don’t do it, he told himself.

Let humankind figure it out.

But they didn’t.

For centuries he watched

From the lonely mountain

Jaws gnashing at raw meat

Grass the only vegetable.

Children freezing to death

The ones who survived to adulthood

Living a few decades.

He also saw Zeus’ kind

Partying, cavorting

Indulging in sweet ambrosia

Luxurious in their immortality

And arrogant in their apathy.

Enough, Prometheus thought.

I’ll be punished, likely tortured.

But mankind will rise

They will throw off the yoke of ignorance

And rid themselves of the gods.

That alone will be worth it.

Prometheus picked up his torch

And went down from the mountain.