EPTCronus
I sit contented, mighty, clever.
My golden age will last forever!
Then Rhea breaks the news:
I’m Daddy. Dreams begin to smolder.
I see my future: bitter, balder,
And selling ladies’ shoes.
Like saprophytes in springtime showers,
They grow! They’ll soon usurp! My powers
Will be of no avail.
One tool remains at my disposal:
A swift, anachronous proposal
(Except without the sale).
I quaff the blood and suck the marrow.
The hollowed bones shall have no barrow,
The waves will be their hearse.
I tell myself: Remember, Cronus,
In married life, the final onus -
For birth control - is yours.
