Sequels to the Book of Giants

You do know you are the giants, now, right?
Not originals, perhaps, but the type.

What you’re up to these days will look monstrous
But probably also grand, heroic,

Accomplishments beyond capacities
Of mere mortals in the eyes of mortals

Who follow you. Who made these great ruins?
Why, giants of course. And what ruined them?

Well, naturally the pride of giants,
All their arrogance and misbehaviors.

Hell, you’re telling the story already,
Accusing yourselves of playing at gods,

Of crushing the fragile world in your might.
Right now, you’re at the stage of the prophets

Calling you all to repent or risk doom.
But you can’t repent, and you aren’t giants,

Just ants afflicted with addled prophets
Ants all overwhelmed by what ants will do.