Author: C.Z.
Ô sing, Melpomen’,
The life of my dearest kin,
As I stand alone in this arena, bitter,
Reminiscing this fateful day that took my sister.
We were raised by the brightest of scholars,
And the most ferocious of warriors,
On the shores of this lake that is your mother’s spring,
While dreaming of flying on Nike’s wing.
Your eyes were sharp as an eagle’s,
Your step moved swiftly as a horse,
Your arrows always found their target,
And there wasn’t a single trick you forgot.
You inspired me by your feats and strength,
You taught me resilience and patience,
Perfecting my strategies, forging my courage,
And like you I wished to master the war’s adage.
As sisters we claimed each other,
Even without sharing a mother nor a father,
We rode as one into battle to tear the frontlines,
You, daughter of the waters, me, daughter of the skies.
My greatest asset is my mind, you told me,
When I doubted my place in this infinity,
Yet my brain cannot comprehend,
This cruel play cut by Atropos’ hand.
I should’ve been the voice of reason,
Able to reign the horse of passion,
Without letting a chance for pride to settle,
And send me against you to battle.
What started it was so trivial,
I cannot remember in my denial,
Instead, it is the anger, the frustration,
The treachery of vindication.
It is my judgement changed by the allure of greatness,
The sweet taste on my tongue of self-righteousness,
My heart refusing again to agree,
While my wisdom faulted me.
I want to remember the laughs, the memories,
The games and hopes while wishing for the centuries,
We could have spent growing and triumphing,
But all is tainted by this unacceptable ending.
We clashed on these forsaken grounds,
Spears shattering against clubs,
Swords performing a lethal dance,
As Eris’ seized her chance.
Should I blame my father for overstepping,
As he brandished against you the shield all are fearing,
Or only myself, my hubris, my shameful part
While my own blade pierced your heart?
Now my weapons feel too heavy on my side,
Forever stained by your blood,
And while you cross the river of oaths,
I rage, I mourn, I cannot not go forth.
This gift of a life without end,
Given by my golden blood,
Without you is now cursed,
Oh, how I wish things could be reversed,
No matter if I can craft the greatest of all statues,
No matter my lamentations of lost values,
No matter I make my punishment always more tough.
It’ll never be justice enough.
But they shall remember you as my dearest family,
I’ll carry on your name and memory,
Until this world reach its omega,
It’ll always be Pallas,
And,
Athena.