it had been but happiness that you hid
suddenly you fled to the far wild
leaving a prophet poet hear you chid
the world made in the brain of a child
insane & do you not now know there can
be no greater pain, more than cassandra
o curse of medea slayer of children,

who'd wished them as maia, young forever.
now no more they run as children bridal
with the planets as their heavenly twin,
such healing pride could bear no betrayal,
white robed the moon left original sin
to the children of eden their incest
& with you their secret happiness.

copyright robin ouzman hislop 2004
all rights reserved