Of the damned and their unwitting followers

Lush was the grass on the fine summers day,
the children of the gods went out to play,
the sons and daughters of men went to the river's edge,
common sense mixed with hubris, 
all came away from that exchange,
a bit more confused than before,
less sure of themselves,
a bit less confident.
No two things, 
being in opposition to each other,
can be true.
And yet,
the children of men,
listened to the children of the gods,
and went their own way,
and built their glorious ruins,
and cried about their greatness,
until it became dark,
and the children of the gods,
turned out not to be the innocents,
they pretended to be,
and the play-masks came off,
and the demons revealed themselves,
at last.
The children of men screamed,
that death was upon them,
but it was too late.
Their piles of bones,
lay strewn along the rivers-edge,
their blood,
mingled with the river,
and the terrible children,
awaited their next meal.