Why do they cry out, what fate do they fear?
Aktaie, she of the promontory,
standing serene in voluptuous glory,
is she not a goddess all men should revere?
Yet still they profane disparagingly
slander the sacred which should be adored,
seek to assault what should be implored,
despoil with the foulest savagery.
Yet as they garble and gurgle their hate,
projecting their foulness onto the fair,
Aktaie ignoring their wickedness,
chooses to grant them a generous fate,
shipwrecks their vessel with undeserved care,
gifts them kindness not vindictiveness.
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Dragonish
PoetryPART 1: Seven poems that explore love. The sated wind doodles mischievously no longer the ravening raptor loosed that scratched sharp claws to my unfettered glee. Now are you temperate, husky, obtuse. PART 2: Follows the tale of a persecuted dragon...
