Cast down your haughty eyes on one you bore
by your own graces from desolate hate;
Hera, your womb sealed a god’s course of fate
without father, but you? You did abhor
flesh and blood of power and deemed monstrous.
Did he fall to the earth, or was he sought
by hand, tossed the dice of life Thetis caught
and made him to dwell safely on Lemnos.
What queen despised, a sea-goddess took note
passion amidst pain, but without bloodlust.
He toiled to find favor with kindred trust
and thus gave enemies weapons made raw,
And Olympus welcomed his esteemed gift,
rather than godlike qualities adore;
With a passion for beauty he asked for
Athena, but was left well broken – miffed. 
A lustful wanderer made to cover
but Aprhodite was beaten, soon known
by trapped passion; wit and revenge, alone,
sprung humored ropes of shame upon lovers.
He was unamused, for love entangled
his heart to craft a beautiful, masked sin,
and Pandora rose to grieve earthly men
by a scarred soul; a cracked past being filled,
being born from the absence of love made
him pure – with talent; And, one can connote
it was you, Hera, of which Homer wrote
failed to see value in a son now praised.
It was not Ares or Hebes you named
“A shame and disgrace to me in heaven”,
yet who is more esteemed by gods, by men?
But the passionate, crippled Hephaestus.