by Tim Kavi
In the Autumn morning before it was brought to light,
the cisterns had all been lit
the corners had all been swept.
Ophelia and Psyche had cleaned the room
it was then the song had a sacred cleft;
for in the Song, an ancient ode was written;
a homage to the Groom.
But behind the tambourine
a Goddess still hid her face.
Uttering the Song
The ancient Greek chorus stood as one,
at the Oracle's place in Delphi
their words mocked the gloom
for there was one much more precious
than was reflected in that night's Moon
the annals of history came and went
but the Goddess still hid her face.
The blustering winds of Furies
bashed many heroes' hopes
Even the great ones, laid among
the chains and ropes;
climbing the rocks they labored,
but to seek some redemption
they only looked to masculine selves
while the Goddess still hid her face!
Anointed with olive oil,
Athena's wisdom dripped from the vases
of Panathenaic paint, given to those skilledin cunning ways of competitive fight
who are found in prowess, and did not faint!
Yet the Goddess still hid her face!
Then when the journey's nearly over
swords and shields in disarray
heroes sought divine help
in a homecoming not so nice
forgotten heroes;
their deeds did not suffice
to turn the cold hearts
for their exploits seemed forgotten
mythologies and old;
She began to show her face!
a smiling face that finally led
her heroes home;
by her shining grace
protected in a mist
until all is revealed
in a love so true
the seeker sought his wife
until seeking, what is found,
in unblinded eyes, scales fell;
for She now has a fully revealed face.
