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“Orpheus”, Part I & II by Benjamin Baxter March 28, 2008

Posted by Rodger Jacobs in Classical Romanticism.
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Beyond the valley of or and vert
Lives the winged creatures, gliding on air.
In silken strands of glowing glare
They seek solace from the shadowed stair.
Extends this stair from life to death.
One descends it without one’s breath.
Withered trees, sky bleak and dark,
Barren land of death… but hark!
And hark! indeed to the sign of life
OrpehusCutting through like a subtle knife
From Milton’s fable of heav’nly strife …
… but this man hath only sought his wife.
Climbs he now this stair of loss
His prize well worth the voyage across
Slinking sea and lifeless land
With constant thought of his maiden’s hand.
Of this hand in icy death’s hold:
It was relinquished for a song so old.
He sang his song with a pleasure bold.
This the lesser task of they twofold.
Of the tasks of this twofold mandate
The second is that the man must wait
Until he is beyond the grip of hell,
Past the grimacing, deadly stairwell.
 
And the winged creatures take all of this in,
Feasting grimly on love, loss, song and sin.

II

Death allowed the woman to leave
As long as they can sightlessly grieve.
He knew for one to break Fate’s weave
One must cut with a blade naïve.
Black OrpheusThat bloodless blade with strength of twelve
Carves away sin of he that delves
Into Hades and back again;
Luckless in this are mortal men.
Fated this: men who try must fail.
By their own hubris they pierce the veil
And from it too, they return frail.
Tempting Fate tempts her assail.
Clotho knows to spin the strand
That not even gods can command.
It shines as lines of lightless prism
Awaiting the oldest sister’s schism.
The second of three sees the line
And a length for even those divine.
Lachesis assesses this twine
Weaving all too tightly life’s design.
The design of Atropos’ assigned feat
Is to seek life’s end.  None can cheat.
This is the one truth continuing:
Avoiding life’s end is one’s undoing.
This the winged creatures know as well;
They consume from fate of the mortal cell.
(The poem concludes Saturday, March 29. Benjamin Baxter is a student teacher in California and blogs at Awaiting Tenure)

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