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• Sunday, October 5, 2008 10:08 AM

  The full poem...

  This poem has often come to mind when reading UT. I finally dug it up for hopefully everyone's amusement.

  The God Enki, to It, on informing him he will be keeping the Mes from humanity

  (by John Myers Myers, from "The Moon's Fire Eating Daughter")

  If ever you venture to gamble, my boy

  Eschew as the grave any innocent games

  Where nothing's at stake but the fun of the ploy.

  Such trifling with riches society blames

  As heinous, while leaping to honor the names

  Of felon endeavorers, clever to throw

  Their ropes upon juicy imperial aims,

  For power's as pure as impeccable snow.

  Be chary of stealing, if needing the loot;

  That's vulgar, and rightly a gallows offense.

  But wealth is a touchstone adept to transmute

  Despicable crimes to proceedings of sense:

  Historians purr when a theft is immense

  Who'd scorn to applaud if the winnings are low;

  For poverty's granted no moral pretense

  While power's as pure as impeccable snow.

  The chasm that yawns between maker and man

  Is simple for any inquirer to spell:

  For gods there exists no morality ban

  On following purposes selfish as fell.

  They'll fry you alive for their joy in your yell

  (All torts they perform without menace of woe),

  And lose of their holiness never a del,

  Since power's as pure as impeccable snow.

  You're cooked, if you're mortal and minus the pelf,

  To bail out your soul with a temple or so,

  For this is the dictum on deity's shelf:

  'Yea, power's as pure as impeccable snow.'

  —souriscriant Read souriscriant's other letters
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