• There on a pedestal, frozen you stand-
    Delicate arms broken; your wings of beauty clipped.
    I pick them up with my hands
    And piece you back together,
    Restoring divine beauty;
    As an artist I take on a god’s duty.

    As you become whole, a being, one-
    I feel warmth, a pulse, and those marble eyes
    They blink at me!
    …Is this reality?
    My love breathes the breath of life?
    We stop and stare, just the way lovers do:

    Alas, you step off the pedestal and head for the door
    Towards the streets of Thebes.

    But when I catch up-
    I see nothing but flawless,
    Beautiful radiant skin,
    With your robe
    Gone with the wind

    All others cease and stare…
    The sight is too painful
    Like the sun at which I glare.
    And you leave through that broken wall
    Proceeding on your azalea path.

    And I stop you and grab your arm once more,
    However, now it feels hollow;
    Like the bones of a bird.

    I ask you where you intend to go-
    With that soft, sweet voice of a goddess you say,
    “Back to where I was born.”
    And she points ahead-
    To the foam,
    At the shore of the sea.