There once was a man of wit and armour bright,
Who always swore to love and pro­tect the light.
He boast­ed hon­esty and strength to give,
Promised delight wher­ev­er he did live.

After much time, the most bril­liant star he found,
Gor­geous blue and sil­ver, yet he want­ed her bound.
So he took her deep to an under­ground cave,
In a prison of teth­ers, and made her the slave.

Alas and alack, his truths unspun as lies,
Such is the way in which feigned hon­our dies!
His love bore jeal­ousy, his warm smiles hid ice,
As he let rust the armour and lashed out thrice.

But the star, glow­ing of hope, would not be held down.
One moon­lit night she escaped in a long onyx gown,
And when next eve came, the man checked her prison,
But lo and behold, a new star had risen.

There­after he was enshrined in orbs of shame.
For upon real­iz­ing the antics of the deceit­ful game,
That his armour was ruined and his charm in decay,
The man fell before the gods in fear, to pray.

But old Cronus was nev­er one to dab­ble in fate,
He keeps per­fect time in nei­ther love nor hate.
And Hecate’s wis­dom had been fool­ish­ly burned,
For the man eas­i­ly for­gets what he had learned.

His­to­ry’s les­son for lessons is thus­ly known:
Some lessons we can only learn on our own,
Some prob­lems are bet­ter solved on our own.
There are no mag­ic elixirs nor heal­ing wand,
Only time, strong will, and a reflect­ing pond.

Comments are closed.