It is said that Endymion asked

for eternal sleep, and that Zeus

granted this boon; so that, henceforth,

his memories of Selene, like an especial thread of silk,

would weave within a Byzantine complexity of dreams.

Only, now, he is unable to awaken; the moon

orbits forever. Peasants here

point out the cave where he lies

on Mt. Latmus. It is difficult

to discern during the day, a mere

out-jutting on the side of a cliff. A conjecture.

Its inaccessibility denies scepticism.

Acceptance seems an approach more compatible

with the Greek Mind’s need

to be at one with its infinitely more interesting past.

On a clear night, memories

of demonic times become pertinent.

Moon glow imprints itself

on the mountain, appears

to funnel down to the mouth

of the cave, reflecting scary interpretations.

It is as though an accumulator

had been placed in a rocky shelf

by an Olympian Tourist Board,

creating an etherially obscure Sound and Light Show

to both confuse and illuminate the uninitiated.

It is as though the Goddess

had come, as a kind of penance,

to view that beauty of true flesh

which must inevitably be rejected.

Day by day, Olympiad following Olympiad,

the progeny of such a union

must mourn its parentage.

In the morning only dew remains.

No photo-magnetic images, no electrical signals.

Not even a torso, a truncated Grecian cast

to lend an air of permanence.

Such is the god-prescribed panacea: Valium, for example,

as a cure for human aspiration.

Believe what you will: Endymion dreams, caresses;

Zeus alone communes with the moonlight.