As midnight embers simmered in the lowlight of the moon,
Guarded by the Gypsies was his ancient, mystic rune.
I flew between the shadows, silence kept me well.
Fabled was his presence, for long ago he fell.

Stilled in Aegean waters, below Poseidon's tide,
I found him resting gently, his beauty struck my pride.
Spectral was this muse who came to me each night,
His grief hooked me deeply, besotted with his plight.

Freedom banished ever long, the eons called to me,
Yet I could not risk the chance to set him free.
Golden light emitted forth, his lips were upon mine,
Softly, "I'm sorry," then I was shackled to the brine.

And as the waves rocked me safely to sleep,
Forever embalmed in the quiet, bluish deep,
My tears carried to the surface my last mortal thought:
Thus depleted of hope, with love hence fraught.