Held in the arms of a goddess,
The child lives in lachrymose rain,
Fated the life of a god; born heir of a vast paradise,
The child knows in its creation it is, and always shall be superior to that of an ordinary man…

While most would insist this a gift of greatness and blessing,
The child perceives this as an accursed life of oddity and bittersweet indifference,
A life of irreverent glares by those whom he desires friendship,
A life… where those he values are forced into his worship for their inability to attain the strength, intelligence, and glory of a heavenly kingdom that a mere child already possesses,

…eventually grown and god of his people,
The man is overwhelmed with indignant sorrows,
Taking his own life,
Unable to ever feel empathy for the simplistic people he so longed to become,

And in his death; the fires of cremation
Set ablaze within an open flame; transforming him into fine luminescent ashes from his heavenly rays…

…a strong wind blew that day,
Spilling the remnants from amidst the clouds; falling softly as tranquil rain,
This glistening dust fell amongst the people he cherished so dearly,
Granting them centuries of happiness and prosperities,
The people there after looked to the skies, smiling upon the kingdom of their long lost king,
Giving him the title of “god among men”, and never letting his lonely and disdainful death to be thought in vein.