In one of my more pensive moments a few months ago, I came to terms with my mortality. I jotted down, Not a God, in just a few minutes. I recently thought about it because it fits nicely with my grandchildren’s recent interest in mythology. Although Mercury is a Roman god, instead of Greek like the others, he seemed to fit the poem better.
NOT A GOD
by Mike Patrick
Flickr image by Claire
Mount Olympus knows not my tread.
Aphrodite has felt not my hand.
Eros is not the fruit of my loins.
Mercury moves not at my command.
I demand no sacrifice.
No laurel wreath adorns my hair.
No oracular words do I hand down;
Someone else must hear your prayer.
I’m not a God.
I’m a man.
Destined to live, to love, to die
Only as best I can.
The Poet's Quill 
We are bags of flesh that walk till our use has ended, then recycle into the Earth. Very humbling poem bro!
Maybe not a God, but a pretty damned good mortal!
I have nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award. I hope you consider accepting!
Being a good human being is as close to being your own God !