A plane of faces turned upside down,
Somewhere along the trail to the Underworld.
The long corridor stretches indefinitely,
Torches spread sparsely along the walls.
The spiraling stairs push deeper on.
“Do not look back, he said
Do not looked back!” He thought.
Terror struck, for he remembered clearly
the lessons the hushed voice had taught.
A grief struck chord plucked from within,
As his sobs began to form.
“Oh, the fool I am!” He cried,
“Why could I have not held my gaze,
Held my vision steadfast
To the closing morning rays?”
As he reached the bottom,
He readied his lyre
And stuck strings in frenzy dire.
Rounding the corner to the banks of flowing Styx,
He saw the same creatures he once tricked.
Determined eyes and sure hands,
He struck the chords at the essence of man.
But this time the creatures lining the Styx,
Were not so surely bewitched.
They closed nearer, vicious growls upon their lips.
Back met stone, an exit long gone.
“The song had always worked,” cried the desperate man, words falling on unhearing ears.
Yes, his tune had always worked,
But not twice tonight.
To mortal love you have given your life,
For you cannot fool Pluto twice.
