I used to think my flinty views were just
a way of living realistically,
deflecting compassion consistently
as someone prone to adamancy must;
I prospected veins in search of gold dust
but fortune drifted (inconveniently)
beyond my grasp and eventually
another person claimed my share of lust.
But then I read of pious Pyrrha's plight
Deucalion with her by the Cephisus
beseeching Themis for another start;
by throwing Mother's Bones (to their delight)
they filled the world again with all of us
explaining this rigidity of heart.
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
I am not familiar with the story but I can imagine how words can trigger a response, filling our world new and rich ~
Reading Metamorphosis by Ovid, your basic creation after the flood myth, but in this case mother's bones were stones thrown over their shoulders that turned into people. The title is an homage to my inspiration but also a type of rock.
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