Franz Stuck, "Lucifer," 1890
To be the favorite son of a god
And boil with resentment and bitter bile
Seems singularly perverse, passing odd
The outraged quest for revenge does defile
The heart, whether mortal or immortal
A being beautiful and pure as light
Could not abide a rival, frail, mortal
That any other being could delight
The eye of the author of everything
Was more than this preening, petulant soul
Could stand; heaven was soiled by loud whining
Bellicose and brash; rebellion, its goal
Only evil complains in paradise
Worship of the self is the darkest vice
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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