Posted in Mythology, Poetry

Ariadne

I knew a maze once,
A terrible, wonderful creation,
Far worse than any demon,
Paved with blood-stained stones and
Lined with bones of the nameless.

I knew a monster once
Who lived in the maze,
A monster of my blood
And perhaps somewhere IĀ loved the monster,
And perhaps there was my mistake.

I knew a man once,
A man from across the sea,
A hero, a man who tasted of the gods,
And I gave the man a lifeline.

Blood is what came of it,
Death and the shadow of evil,
And love is what came of it,
And perhaps there was my mistake.

I loved him.
I loved him as he loved me,
I loved him as the rheumy-eyed old sailor,
beached, loves the sea:
like the worship of a distant deity,
a salt-tinged memory of
euphoria and want.

I loved him as he avenged,
as he murdered,
as he adventured.
I loved him as he loved me, once,
A love that shook me with its curse.

I loved him as he left me,
sails fading into the horizon,
memories fading slowly after them.

I love him still,
helpless, heaving, craving,
and perhaps there is my mistake.

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