Poseidon arises from a century’s sleep

God of the Sea, King of the Deep.

He longs for his lover

a small, gentle soul

human and fragile

without eternal woes.

He sings a sweet ballad

a grand, ancient tune:

“Oh, Anna, my dearest,

come to me

and sleep with the moon!”

Below him in Heaven,

she lives her small life

battling daily struggle

he watches her strife.

“Oh, Anna,” he sings,

“how I wish you were here,”;

each night he will enter

her dreams to be near.

Decades of loving

he follows her journey,

whispering lovely

sweet nothings

to soothe her.

As her death closes in,

Poseidon comes from above,

floats down to Earth simply

to tell her his love.

Clad in golden adornments,

with trident in hand

onlookers gasp, “It’s Poseidon!

He’s come to our land!”

The Grecian folk cheer

as he passes them by;

Poseidon steps quickly

towards his love

to tell her goodbye.

He reaches her bedside:

“Oh Anna!” he moans,

“I’ve watched you forever,

I wish to make you my own.”

“Poseidon,” she says

weakly grasping his hands,

“Make me eternal,

like the wind and the sands.”

With a single piece of ambrosia

he feeds her so gently,

she rises from bed

renewed, young, and ready.

“Hand me your trident!

I’ll carry it home!”;

he obliges,

she takes it,

and holds the key to his throne.

Then all of a sudden,

she pierces his chest!

His own weapon

breaks though his armor

and tears into his flesh!

“Oh, Anna,” he cries out in pain,

“Why on Earth have you done this?

Cleaved me in ‘twain?”

“Poseidon,” she answers

with a snakish sly grin,

“You’ve stalked me for decades,

and now I’ve gotten revenge!”