With a stumble and a shiver, press into the dark,
A candle in one hand and a cold grasp the other.
Crooked catacombs stretch beyond the sight where not a wail nor whistle can be heard at night.
The fingers, cold and hard are heavy but cannot be relinquished, not for a second. A look cannot be risked for fear of a terminal loss.
Now a failing hopeful slips into misery.
The way is forgotten and the deal is rotten!
Anxiety bites the breast and forces the neck to turn; Beautiful Eurydice, I have forsaken you once and yet again.
She falls, soundless and pitiless back into the arms of her lord.
One more malicious grin as he pulls her by the hair and plunges her lifeless self into the black waters.
I love you my dear, I cannot be forgiven so I shall never ask it.
I hate you my foe, but care for her or my hand shall speak wrath.
YOU ARE READING
Orpheus and Eurydice
PoetryA short musing of the Greek myth concerning Orpheus and his venture into the Underworld.
