orpheus is a poet and a musician whose music could move even gods. he falls in love with eurydice. she dies from a snakebite, he descends into the underworld to bring her back. his music softens hades and persephone, who agree to let her return. on one condition: he must not look back at her until they have both reached the surface. he looks back too soon and loses her forever. what is most precious yet irretrievable? love, innocence, art, or inspiration that cannot be held without destroying it.

there were times when i looked at someone too soon and lost them forever. there were times when they looked at me too soon and lost me forever. in both cases, under the sweet moon, the agony and despair hold hand in hand and enter the scene. even the loveliest of music cannot stop someone from leaving if they made up their mind.
i have different journals for different loves of mine. they all start with claims of an undying love. they all end up being disproved. when love first ends, i can almost drown in my own sorrow. any minute, i may jump and fall into deep water. no need for me to put rocks in my pocket, my burden will pull me down asunder. she can start breaking all the mirrors any time now, you may say, she can rip herself apart. sensing the heaviness her hair causes, she can pull all her hair off just to feel a little lighter any minute now, you may say. then you give it some time. you don’t get what was all the fuss about.
that’s how it goes all the time and you know it. i give it some months and i see the good in it. then i believe in love again.
i believed in love when it all started, i believed in love as it was ending. i believed in love when they left, i believed in love when i was the one leaving. both in birth and death, interestingly i believe in love. but this is no made up belief. this is a belief that is intertwined in me, like the gods of the ancient, love is my favorite hoax.
in the words of Taylor Swift, looking back guess it was kismet. (from The Life of a Showgirl, title track featuring Sabrina Carpenter)
kismet: noun, a fair force out of your control. partly Turkish, partly Persian.
here is a poem by me, yours truly. i wish it could become a song.
it’s called the golden fleece.
the golden fleece
your mystique could bring gods to the altar
the crown is your curse and your power
should’ve knocked on wood when you found her
who in the world would know a good forever?
we’re all a snakebite away from panic
only trusted rope to rely on is music
he sang one that softened even the devil’s lips
who healed the snakebite and saved her
apple to this adam & eve
was taking his eyes off her for a minute
she was something he can’t hold
without destroying
that’s why never ever
be the eurydice to someone’s orpheus
if you are not the prize, don’t be the muse
he sang the mountains to save
but lost her
cause he looked at her way too soon.
what brought the gods was the golden fleece
you persuaded the devil with your mystique
but i can’t put you in my mind, can’t try
because i’m no eurydice to your orpheus
because if i’m not the prize, i won’t be the muse
cause he looked at her way too soon
the golden fleece is out of fashion
cause he looked at her way too soon
the golden fleece is out of fashion

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