They speak of the man who went through hell and back to find his lover.

They speak of his doubt and their need for one another.

But how did Eurydice feel as she was escalating the grandeurs of Hades’ beloved lair,

holding her only hopes in a hand colder than the surrounding air.

Was she nervous or scared for her soul

was she terrified that his, so intertwined with hers, would also perish?

Was she so focused on her goal

that she forgot to signal that she was still there to the man she would so cherish?

As she was suffocating in the dissonance of surrounding heat,

far from the esoteric feeling of deliverance by only a few feet,

her thoughts travelled far and fell out of reach,

as she is now far below the man she would once preach :

can you see me as I hold your hand, Orpheus?

Can you see that I am there as you traverse Satan’s home, Orpheus?

Can you see that I am by your side as you burn through the flames, Orpheus?

Can you see that I am right behind you, Orpheus?

Can you feel my breath as you bend and splinter under the pressure?

Why do I feel your hesitance, Orpheus?

Don’t you trust me, Orpheus?

Will you turn back on your path one last time as you simultaneously bid me your last murderous farewell?

Will you dishonor the words of Beelzebub himself to glare upon my tearing face and make sure that it, unlike any mortal disgrace ended by death, would be eternal?

Will you turn back to assess in the red moonlight that my body is still yours?

Will I then be taken away from you and become but an ephemeral memory?

Orpheus, focus on your step.

Orpheus, do not dare turn your neck.

Orpheus, please.

Orpheus.