The Greeks have more than one word for love.
It begins with storge, family,
where we can find,
if we are the fortunate few,
So clear-eyed, well-fed
we make our way to philea or even, though rarely,agape.
The rest of us,who were planted in cold, rocky soil
grow stunted, frozen
reach for fire, thinking it is the sun.
Romance is the name for our illusion of love
a fog that hides the shorelineas we navigate
by wishes and lies
instead of stars.
Tossed about, dizzied, bruisedby storms we name passion
whose dictionary synonyms are pain, obsession, mania.
We think we will be saved
to the punctured hull.
The Aeon of myth and Tarot appears before us
the Star Goddess Nuith,
her companion, Hadith, a winged ball of fire,
their child Horus
Aeon rises above the waves,
as an eagle now
calls out to us