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> Opus Terra Salon > Member Pages > Dimitri Rimsky > The Night Caller
The Night Caller If Prometheus were Unbound Where would he go? Would he return to the lover to whose hearth he first brought the fire? Would she be there waiting for him? Not likely. Oh, at first She stayed close to him, till the screams drove her Mad with despair, till the flapping wings haunted her sleep, till she could not face another day of tending an endless wound. So she took the embers And left him on his rock. left him chained in the shadow of the bird left him to suffer alone. He understood. He forgave her. What else could he do? And she walked away till she couldn't hear him screaming till the sun cast no shadows over her till she broke the chains of love and found a home in a distant world and after some years she learned to sleep without dreaming
So she was completely unprepared When the knocking in the night called her from the hearthside, called her from her lover's bed Imagine her horror opening the door to find him, collapsed on the threshold Gaping wound in his side The dust swirling up in the wind of the beating wings. Imagine her horror standing there when he looked up at her imploring to be taken in. Safe from the reach of the bloody beak. What would you do? Oh certainly Your first instinct would be to drag him in to place him by the fire he suffered for to clean his wounds, to hold him, to cry over him to rock him in your arms But what of her life ....Now? What of the Man calling to her from a distant room? What of the terror of the screaming, flapping shadows What of a future forever pursued by relentless talons What of that!
No you think. No one could be that cruel. But isn't it crueler still to ask her, to expect her to suffer forever with him?
Is the cost of love that high? Is that the price she must pay for caring, must she go on paying forever? Isn't it fair that she too be unbound? After all wasn't it he who defied the law? Wasn't this really his punishment and his alone?
She had only complained of being cold! She would have been as warm if he had stayed and held her. Wasn't it he Who betrayed Her! Wasn't his grand defiance really only an act of vain glory? Wasn't her heart broken, Wasn't once enough?
She done what she could But the screaming The black wings, the blood and anguish was too much.
He called to her again from a distant room and she closed the door. She would tell him "It was only the wind."
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