Lynceus Savina:

i
The Pleiades, seven slowly naked virgins
Unveiling themselves by degrees
Within the night sky

And she cried through her dreams
As though some incubus
Veiled from my waking eyes
Delved the dark waters within her

Did the wind cease from flight that night?
Was the universe silenced in her eternal dance?
As my eye sought out the warm vale of her thighs
Glistening with a new born pearl
Produced in her sleeping ecstasy
And the only sound that tore
From her transfixed body
Was her voice as she spoke my name
My heart was broken
And made whole again
By it's self same assassin.

ii
I returned to the gathering of my brothers
And plotted our elopement
How our two great planets might be made one
How we might be concealed among the veils of the desert
How only in my country
Among my noble kindred
May we be truly free to love

Never again may we return to that dark abode
The citadel of Argos
Those centuried walls
So beguiling to the sights
That twin the soul of man
From his rightful place amongst nature
Emperor of the endless dunes
Warder of the very heavens
The soul, a hawk in sysygee with the moon

iii
And never has the sun set hence between us
And never have I wept for myself
Only for she, the harness of my soul
The ancient bride of my body
The prisoner set free by love
The monitor of my dreams
My tower of the breezes

For the outrage of her father
And for the retribution that ere must follow
My inner rapture
I bare no man ill will
But only that she might be spared my fate
When all our Joy has ended
And I am a breeze that flows ceaselessly
Over the sands of the desert
Protecting my people
Disguising our footprints
And all traces from our enemies
No sanctuary may last for all time

I would offer myself to the slayer now
That she might be free to raise our children
In love and rapture
Tutored in the knowledge of the greater sea
Which flows through all eternity
Like a human heart
Limitless as the soul's capacity to love

Here my Savina is safe
More precious than water
More precious than sight to a blind man
Aye but there is one thing more precious still
But such things are not for mere words
For scholars to bewilder in their solitude