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.