Downward Gaze

I Stride across the grave of Man
Once your Cradle
Now your grave.
Man.
Not Aman.

Of a time you were bold
Trying to share, with gods,
The heavens.
But you grew old
And drank your Conine tea of Hate
With relish.

Should I water your dusty mound
With Ambrosia drank yesterday,
Or yesteryear?
No.  
Best for us you stay asleep.
Man.