Myth as Metaphor

(Nyx to Erebus)

Let her think me wicked and keep me

like an Enemy, closer than comfort.

Strife will stir without my hand, &

in truth,

I have no taste for apples or their

turning--though I may take a little

thrill in the Chaos caused in their

wake. That gold was stolen long ago

and I'll not weep for it now,

no matter what price you are

made to pay. Darkness is not

known to break, even as Fate

scrapes her naked blade against

his tenebrous thread, trying to

tug it like a leash--so let her

play. She may think herself

Inevitable, brother, but I

am the Night who bore her &you

my lover, children of the Void

knowing no difference between

genesis and Death, between no

and yes. We preceded Destiny,

and Doom and Dawn descend

by our breath.

9/25/2007