“Selene, did you hear?”
“Selene, do you know?”
“Selene, you should not.”
“Selene, what do you mean?”
“Selene, would you forgive me?”
“Selene, I promise.”
“Selene…”
“Sel...”
Cursed to never forget, he remembered it all,
Beneath wide branches, beneath shadows that fall.
He gazed at her shell, unmoving, so frail,
Pale face, cold hand—a sorrowful tale.
His heart, it shattered; he reached for her hand.
“Selene, I am here; I’ll help you to stand.”
But lifeless she lay, her body undone,
Crumbled to dust beneath the dim sun.
He prayed to the gods—silence replied,
Turned to the devil—his pleas were denied.
Alone with his grief, cold as the night,
He called to the heavens, no hope in sight.
A broken man, he found my gaze,
Begging, pleading through hollow haze.
“Oh Sun, remember, this tale you’ve seen,
The prayers to gods, to devils, to me.
Remember your cries I chose to ignore,
Remember you asked, you begged, I implored.”
The man shook in despair, torn and undone,
And the ugly hand tore the tale of the Sun and Selene