Zeus teary-eyed

Zeus teary-eyed
weak and suffering, exclaiming his universal cause
he ignites fire upon wood
gathers army of faith-defenders well-trained, shaved beech woods into spears and sacrifices Lamb
he makes divine host of pens and parchments and scribes
then his throws his thunder to tallow of lamps to start those brows of his fiery fury, and
bids his deathless legion to wrestle every lore obscured,
from Hades with Lamp and many pens' splendid smiting edge
each and every, to reach, the whereabouts of once most exalted Dionysus, now lost, diving chthonic --now a being marking his wanderings in absence of thunder of yesterday's sky...
Prophetic tales tell of him usurping the cosmic throne,
Zeus is in fear, and can think of only poison or brutal murder.
But Zeus had no power over it, the sky that did not split
the clear, blue sky that did not change colour...
now in abyss alike there is peace of the unknown.
Yet with a breast full of oppressed rage,
releasing Ready Hounds and he assails,
against Dion fleeing away, to the end of the world
he cleaves down orchards' laden fruits with unseen levin,
and topples silently from each lofty tower the unequal weights
rams blindly the lenses of eye with his unfathomable divinity
disjoining spectral monotone into myriad iridescence
then bid his sense-oracles to dissect and read the sign.
Knowing, knowing, the kneeling oracles of sense nods,
close....! yet Dion still from him and them flees
the long travail,
till exhausting all prophetic sciences that look backwards
and knew only Experience, tablets of indelible lines
Zeus weeps for his impotency
that Lamb of mortality shan't reach
immortal Tyger beyond its sense-bounded lines
and as I describe this, Sky God's divining echo to,
on the parchment scroll, lamp-blasted sooty lines
still Dionysos, the exalted energy of Creation eludes, oh
even as God dropped the lightning die, sight to search
He, the undivinable mirage, the riddle of How-it-came-to-be?
Zeus illuming, the path of restless legion,
of faithful scribes striking forth with sciences' scintillating pen:
sallying, a dive into voluminous abysm of conflicting senses
swaths of reason form like ploughed ground, yet
Dionysos, the colour out of abyss, an uncarved sigil,
fallowed soil
a sensation out of space ----
and a memory out of time, him reason cannot tell
Mystery, He is gone, all gone
unwritten Father, Man, Riddle.
Son who is the Grandfather. He who is called Dionysos.
we many and petty eidolons of Gods ....we are the many Zeus.
searching for thee, Dion,
Depth, Oblivion, or Truth-----
even among our own graves.
O Dion,
In dim land of Africa, the eternal Gods were fashioned in thy image, the eternally unknowable Man
and they already know they were made likewise when they forgot,
what deathless colours and brilliance once was held by yesterday's joyful Sky;
so long as the fulgurous flame of night-beacon yet burneth
before twin gates of Hades,
Even Zeus himself cannot capture, O Dion
with lightning-fast thoughts and words and a fountain of ink,
Yesterday's blinding Thunder that had already sped.