The Last Words of Achilles

Now to lie down
under this bronze sky
that smelts men's hearts.

Poured hot into mold of war -- 
mixing beat of friend and foe,
till drumming deafness of final day.

Hammered by the will of the gods,
into that armor that protects 
their vanity.

And Achilles,
fool that he was,
thought he strode above this.

Till now;
in final truth of dust,
eyes see clear this curse.

That to be both
god and man
is to be loved by neither.