I am Prometheus

At first, you imagine me sitting. My head drooping

between my shoulders,

back slumped, bent double, knees jutting like icebergs.

I wear a chain, fastened

to a shackle about my neck.

Adamantine.

A chain so hard and heavy

you think it should pull me

groundward

through these broken shattering crags and the depthless mountains they crown, through vast caverns and hidden lakes,

to the very centre of the Earth,

where I should swim and melt and swirl with the molten, searing core until

there is nothing left of me.

But it does not.

And I do not.

I am Prometheus, the Titan.

My world is not your world.

If once it was

then I have forgotten it,

through countless generations,

countless generations chained and mauled, frozen and devoured,

seared, tormented.

Eviscerated.

Yet I persist.

I am still here, waiting,

waiting for the one who will set me free!I have seen that this will come to pass and so it will;

for I see all things.

I am Prometheus. I stand.