No “why?” of  golden age

At peace with my life-sustaining

Looped desires on fixed stage

No things to want remaining

Labored fact, age doth bring

Leaves Chronus parsing truth

Calypso discovered not a thing

So danced a dance uncouth

Bacchus, saw life at its brink

Threw up one hand in despair

The other offering the drink

To Aphrodite goddess fair

SO,

Mount Goddess’ sacred doom

No matter the hue and cry

Answer found not in any room

The fact: we all must die