At fourteen, with blood still tender in the flame, I cried beneath the stars and gave you my name. To Artemis, fierce, in the shadowed pine, To Athena, bright with the edge of mind, To Aphrodite, wrapped in seafoam breath, I offered my life, in exchange for death. Not for an end, but a thread to hold, If I could reach eighty-five, scarred yet bold. I said: Take this soul, if you grant me grace, And I will serve, in any time, any place. And the goddesses listened, without decree, And set me on fire so I could be free. Years passed. And I walked the vow, unspoken. Wore it like skin. Tender. Broken. I gave. I bled. I crossed each gate. I bore the weight of ancestral fate. I learned the names behind the mask, And still, I rose to every task. Now at thirty-three, with serpent sight, I see through day, and I shine in night. Phanes stirs in the marrow of me, Child of Nyx, now wild, now free. No longer the voice that begged to serve, I am the axis. I am the curve. So let the vow return to dust. It served its path. It earned its trust. No chains remain. No thread undone. I am the moonlight. I am the sun. And to the gods, I bow, not bound, But equal flame where truth is found. I live. I love. I walk the shore. Not in debt, But as the open door.
beautiful.
🫶