The Song of Cup and Mists | By Athonemos
Sing, O Muse, of the day the high heavens grew hungry for the earth, When the King of the Thunder-Cloud looked down from his starry hearth. He saw the Prince of Ilium, young Ganymede, fair and bright, And the small, snow-haired Heleigiri, a blossom of hidden light. Down swept the Eagle, with pinions that beat like a coming storm, His talons of brass reached out to claim each young and trembling form. Through the shrieking wind and the dizzying blue, he bore them high, To the marble halls of Olympus, where the gods drink the nectar of the sky. Within the gilded chambers, where the floors are paved with light, The children sat as prisoners of the King’s unyielding might. But Ganymede, the Trojan lad, bore a heart of ancient iron; He saw the maiden’s tears and feared the lust of the Great Lion. "Small sister of the Lake," he whispered, low beneath the roar, "The King shall have his cupbearer, but you shall have the shore. I see the hunger in his eye, the storm w...