Danae

My prison opens only to the sky, for city buildings loom up tall and gray to form the walls my kinsmen have reared high, to form the cell where I am shut away. Yet I am sought by something I have seen, yet I am claimed by something I recall of nature as a bridegroom decked in green, to whom I was betrothed when I was small. His naked sun gains access to my tower, a bold Zeus leaping through the open roof in the semblance of the golden shower that once united lovers held aloof. Just so does nature's passion still abide, and find in city cells the waiting bride.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...