Sunday, June 23, 2013

Rivers of the Underground: Lethe

Of all the evil my eyes have seen, oblivion was the most unforgiving. Who escaped it, never spoke of it again. Of all sins, to forget the wrongs committed, the most cruel is, more gruesome than the wrong that suffers of it, to forget. The closest to death in deed, oh she is not sleep, for even sleep will be forgotten. Here I sink into this hole of liquid, here I am washed clean of myself, and so not only drowned into this river of the living dead, also to know nothing of it. Three times crows the rooster, three times I disown, three times disowned, so I deny the love I loved, so I deny the friend I once knew. Is there greater sin than to stop loving, than to forget. Man, I do not know what you are talking about! and the Lord turns and looks straight at us. Oh Lethe, who washes with your waters my love. Oh Lethe, don't leave me denied. As I sink I feel her sense of great, calm soothing. There is no deeper river in the mind, there is no broader realm in the soul of man. To forget is the devil's water, and more than death, Matilda's hand I fear. Matilda, most beautiful woman, most gracious and fair, it is her who makes me forget what in my dreams I longed. She is covered in her veil, and by the spell of magic in her eyes, the breath of her soft breasts in her tender voice, the Siren draws me onto her clips. Here it is I strand, on the shore of Lethe, while on my long sea way home.