In Hades I find myself.

I slit the throat of the goat

its blood spills upon the dark soil.

Shades appear like stippled photographs.

Lapping up the blood.

I should have slit my own throat, I think.

But then I would be dead among the dead.

Trapped in my mind, as a shade for eternity

reaping what I sowed, seeping blood into the soil that will only produce

a stillborn soul.

Body hanging separate like rotted fruit from the soul’s branches.

I want to live amongst the living,

but misery brings me to the shores of putrid rivers

of stinking muck.

The shades do not comfort. They do not pray. They only go on in hopelessness.

Trapped within their minds; within their regrets and passions.

Unrepentant and spoiled.

Hades the land of the dead. Never to be reborn.

I search for Proserpine. But she has already left to rouse earth’s blooms.

Lost in the darkness. The Gorgon appears petrifying me in despair.

How can this nightmare end?

The earth quakes beneath me. A rift in the crust. A light shines through.

Shades, Gorgons flee.

Here is my hope, my savior–

Come down to set the captives free.


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