'Truly the blessèd gods have

   proclaimed a most beautiful secret

       death comes not as a curse

         but as a blessing to men'

 

           an Eleusinian epitaph

 

 

How long we waited 

watching every deed

So fearful 

of the failure 

of the seed.

We eyed our priest, 

'Thrice-daring, the devout.'

To him She taught 

a simple farmer's creed;

The rite of burial 

for a puppet reed.

Yet memory of Her wrath 

increased our doubt

For once She brought 

us only cursèd drought.

Then nothing grew, 

no child, no sheaf, no weed.

This gift She gave 

all bounty to exceed.

At last we saw 

the long awaited sprout. 

 

In sorrow we are born, 

that is our plight.

Yet soon our hearts grow light 

in warmth and love.

See with me now 

a bower domed above,

Therein a gray-eyed woman 

dressed in white

Receiving three red buds 

still folded tight.

Is She, 

who seems so regal 

yet so meek,

Not Demeter, 

the guardian of the Bride,

Now crowned of corn, 

green tresses o're each cheek?

The slender footed maided at Her side?

'Tis Kore, 

whose new name 

we must never speak!

                                                                                  

'Twas Kore's return 

that finally brought the Spring

For from their separate sorrow 

they unite.

No thought of past or future 

do They bring into the vale, 

where nymphs oft' hide at night

To hear the echo 

of Their laughter ring.

They walk about all morning 

hand in hand

And often do They 

o're a blossom stand

To whisper hints 

to aid the helpful bees

Or check the hue and scent 

of vines and trees,

Collecting dew 

from flowers o'er the land. 

 

Here gathered at Eleusis 

once again

Let us now sing a song 

of thankful praise.

With life and growth 

She's blessed each citizen.

Accept the Kykeon cup and cake 

we raise.

These first fruits now 

we taste and are as one

And yet decay 

can never be o'er crossed.

The poison on our lips 

kills as the frost.

We see the longer shadows of the sun

And sadden, 

for the crane's flight has begun,

Remembering it was here 

that Kore was lost.

 

Here daughters of the tide and Kore 

were seen at twilight 

all about the crags at play.

To harvest sweet Narcissus 

She did stray.

The Dark Lord rose 

and saw His future Queen!

'Twas then She felt 

a freezing grasp unseen.

Down darkened

ways He made His chariot fly.

Kore cried, 

but soon fell in a deadly daze.

In vain Her mother 

searched the sea and sky;

Each bough She draped 

in sorrow's brilliant sprays

'Til veiled in black 

She stripped them with a cry! 

 

When Demeter 

Her daughter's fate had learned

So strong Her wrath 

She made Olympus quake.

In Hades’ heart 

both love and anger burned;

The captive Kore 

lived for Her mother's sake;

How bitter grew His love 

when none returned!

He let Her free, 

but first His Queen to save

As token of His love, 

a pit He gave.

Her mother's joy was crushed 

when She was told

Of Hades’ gift.  

She knew that Kore 

was sold into a cycle, 

bound to be its slave.

 

Our fate? 

Decreed to rot 

our tale must tell

But maybe picked at prime.  

Yet think of She

Who sits beneath 

the barren olive tree

Where maidens come 

to linger o'er the well,

In endless joy and sorrow 

She must dwell.

And Kore, 

'neath poplar white 

on bended knee

Who weeps into 

the Pool of Memory

While from a casement 

dark eyes sadly swell;

Yes She, 

the seed, 

whose path must always be

So like a mortal's 

but immortally.