Gods are on their Mt. Olympus, all is right with the earth,
At times they mingle with the mortals, and to heroes give birth.
A gulf divided Gods and men, that Prometheus tried to surmount,
Driven by passion, he tried defying fate, was on a torment at last count.
When Gods don't have all the answers, and Oracle of limited use,
You start asking your own self, what's all this for, what's the ruse?
Miles away, seated near the master, Nachiketa asks similarly Yama,
What's the secret of immortality, we are born again, how come?
God is but one immortal, there's Atman in each of us,
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm, the Brahman we are thus.
The gods permeate our body, are our breath, our speech and sight,
You can keep saying no to questions, till you get the answer right.
Gods may be indifferent and external, or they merge with us as one,
As long as we keep asking questions, we'll arrive at conclusions some.
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