Let us console you. 
Music’s the answer. 
Of course, we’re caught 
in this sphere 
where it doesn’t much matter

whether our song reaches
the ear of Prometheus or not. 
He’s adamantly chained 
to the mountaintop. 
Every morning, there’s eagle,

a beak and a claw on the back. 
Such an ache. Somatognosis 
is the sixth sense. 
What does it feel like 
to inch one’s way forward?

These are the questions. 
Dawn on its knees 
crawls toward knowledge. 
More of us are coming.