i've sculpted marble into her image,
a statue, flawless, down to each detail,
her beauty true and that of mind in scrimmage,
her replication filled with much travail,

upon the sight of it in its completion,
i gasped when i beheld its perfect form,
and to protect this object most like Grecian,
i built a temple 'round it for the storm,

one day, as i prepared my veneration,
i found her in the temple stumbling drunk,
and sharing with another my oblation,
unsheathed his sword and deeply in her sunk,

oh, never build a temple to a mortal,
for she'll escape to heaven through that portal

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos