Yes, they have keen eyes and ears
and watch every move, hear every
word, all of them, the soft, tender
words that almost always are spoken
to them by the gods, but the loud,
threatening, scary words that the
gods shout at each other mostly
after the sun goes down and the
gods have indulged in nectar and
libations. It is then that the
children pull the covers over
their heads and hum nursery rhymes
to themselves, over and over and
over until the shouting ceases and
the castle is quiet. Then as they
grow and the resentments mount
they think they know all about
the gods, but they can never, ever
know the longing, the ache, the
remorse, the guilt, the shame and
the incredible love the all-too-
human gods have for each other,
not, at least, until they be-
come gods themselves.