Rainbows of light stream through 
the glass surface of peace,
a sea of wonder holding all of Poseidon’s lore,
with every wave he cries out for the love of one,
the first echolocation the young world ever knew,
the lady he shall never claim, for their love is scorned.

She belongs to another, no matter the how.

Her love and devotion for her kidnapper 
is her lover's ultimate undoing,
even if it causes the sea to ravage his ships,
turn beautiful myth to sudden bloodshed.

How can so much emotion come from 
a man full of mourning?

But it is proof that in our pain
we lead the deepest charge,
the march to conquer what we think
can belong to only one.

She saw it all from a vast above,
the supposed eye of a father,
the careful eye of a world,
a sky streaked with fury,
the vengeance of raw fires.

The fertile earth bursting open to claim her
and a mother will always be unforgiving,
fair strands and oceanic eyes gone dark
and all harvests will bear no fruit when she's gone,
nothing will flower until spring touches the land.

She belongs to another, no matter the price.

In those months she will dream of
endless meadows in the flourishing dark
where she can still taste the sweetness
bursting from the fruit's delicate chambers.

She was the most beautiful 
of all the ladies here,
The goddess of Spring,
She was his most willing 
participant of all his lust, 
his forbidden Persephone.

She loves her king and husband of hell,
never will she leave her home.
yet in the shadows of the blue sea,
in depths that mortal flesh cannot understand,
she yields her desires upon the trident throne.

Will the fleeting moments 
of the strongest lust,
Be enough to sate this god?

Or will a battle engulf this earth,
demanding she chooses only one?

And much like a relentless torrent of rain
or lightning striking the bare earth...

It is proof that in our pain
we lead the deepest charge.

Some force beyond will always pull her below.
For she belongs to another, no matter the consequence.