Content[edit | edit source]
A clay tablet narrating a small tragedy of human folly.
Music lasts only a moment, but it can be forever held in one’s mind. This tablet is adorned with the drawing of a lyre.
The cooking process, however, made the strings tear.
The tablet reads:
May a night we spent in that crimson shrine,
comforted by the boy’s lyre and the basin’s flame.
Before and after every meal Asterion would pay Hestia her due and beyond,
sometimes going hungry for her greater glory.
Night after night I pleaded for his help but he would not have it.
So I employed my wit, persuade him I would with honeyed tongue.
In-between my father’s moans I would ask,
he would answer without ceasing his song, fingers grazing the threads.
“Why is it that you stay here, child?
The plateau around us is vast and beautiful.
Are thou not a prince, descended from a blessed queen?
Many are the joys royalty well deserves to enjoy.
When was the last time you picked crocuses
and grazed your fingers on their petal-hidden softness?
When did you last bathe on Crete’s coast?
Is it not your wealth to robe yourself in vibrant purples and reds?
How many moons has it been since at dawn
you greeted the fishermen to buy their fresh catch?”
“I do not know for sure, sir,” answered the child, eyes glimmering against fire.
His ears flickered along with the chilly wind.
“Perhaps seven winters it has been since I bartered with the fishermen,
six since my hooves last felt the sea’s cold embrace,
five since I last held d my sister’s hand on our way to the field to gather flowers,
four since I have worn nothing but rough fabrics
and last had someone to exchange words with.
But not a night has gone by when I did not pluck my lyre’s strings
nor a day in which the god’s due went unpaid.
Lonely as the labyrinth may be, am I not named after the stars?
I find companionship among them, tracing them with a finger,
and inside my own mind of which non can strip me.
Before your arrival I thought; from dawn to dusk,
my mind raced with stories and possibilities.
The sea I shan’t see until fathers relieves me of duty
but its foam I can forever hold in the palm of my mind.”
Topics[edit | edit source]
- Crocus - The flower from which the spice saffron derives. It's highly associated with the island of Crete, to the point of being depicted in the frescoes of the Palace of Knossos.
- Vibrant Robes - In antiquity, the production of dyes was a much more laborious process. The purple and red dyes especially valued due the even more intense labor put behind them.