Amor Est Vitae Essentia (CC/ML/Mature) elgery34 3/11/08[WIP]

[suicide_eagle_rath]

Title: Amor Est Vitae Essentia (Love is the essence of life)

Author: suicide_eagle_rath

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, WB and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement intended. I am only attempting to finish a riveting story from one point of view.

Rating: Mature for the “sexual theme”

Pairings: CC / ML

Summary: A humble offering that looks at the love between Max and Liz from another perspective, that being the ancient element immortalizing the very essence of love itself.


Elegy One[/b[/center]
How is it that I have come so far from that which is my very essence, my very soul to write now of the love of blood-soaked battlefields and conquests of vicious warfare than to enchant the heart with a love philter. Once so long ago, centuries past when mankind was naive, compliant to the ways of love, I did flex my arms drawing the bow tight, letting the arrows flow freely into mortal man’s sub-concussions.

As it is to be expected, life like all things had grown complicated with the eternity of time. Mortal man no longer fears Mount Olympus nor enjoys the benefits of Aphrodite herself. Love has become an intangible painting, lusted after in the halls of their new age homes across the seas and lands. There are none living who compel me to take up the bow again, to sooth man with adoration, bringing forth the Muses who color this unanimated spiritless existence with wit, verse, and erotica. Such is the burden that I now carry upon my shoulders, my bow and quiver stand in the corner, dust and cobwebs collect on the dulled once pointed tips.

Funny I now see how true the words are that spoke forth form the ink of Apollonius Rhodius, who wrote in Argonautica his masterpiece displaying Jason in his heroic need to obtain the Golden Fleece. It is as if he predestined my downfall from grace, my path to the underworld, evil, vile, powerful forces that consumed me, that ate at my mind until it was but a shell of former glory. He wrote of me, “Ruthless Eros, great bane, great curse to mankind, from you come deadly strife, lamentations and groans, and countless pains as well have their stormy birth from you."

Elegy Two

Who calls me forth to demand of me to return love to the world? Zeus who has been so vacuous in self for these many centuries remains silent on the throne, his voice now muted for no devotees speak in his name. Aphrodite cannot be the genesis of who called me forth for she has been transformed from the voluptuous sensuality of pure art, the personification of pleasure and desire into a weapon wielding, cud chewing, dipsomaniac Amazonian. Who is it then that hast disturbed my rest, my slumber that I so richly deserve after centuries of faithful service.

What is it of my concern if the world has fallen so much? Why should I be of concerned that those that are of flesh and bone can no longer hear the call of the immortal heart beating, the rhythm of the ancient songs? Nay I will hear no more, go forth from me and take your damnable conciseness and morality with thee.

My ears! Soften the voices; I can take no more, ah, so be it, I Eros yield to those who call, and those who demand my punishment at the hands of these fool mortals. From them I am to learn a lesson, the essence of love, the essence of life. What is the use of fighting the enviable, I am but a poor captive enslaved in the chains of mediocrity. I bend the bow to my knee as my nimble fingers once again strung the ligament to stretch tightly from end to end. My quiver I place upon my back, the tips freshly polished, new fletching, thus I equipped the shafts to make their path true and straight.

Elegy Three

My path, I make true and straight as well, from the treacherous descent from Olympus as once again I scurry though the masses, looking for the two that I have been apprenticed to learn from. The world had grown so large in the centuries that I slept, so many now occupy so little. I feel the pain, the longing for hope, the dismal reality of their fated lives. As I search among the countless faces, I can no longer sense the soul, as the body blooms and fades away; there is no vessel now to hold the fragile gift of love.

Pardon I seek that which I have been damned to seek out, but I beg pardon at the sight of my tormentors, those who are burdened with the task of creating me anew. They are but children themselves, their eyes have not yet seen, their lips have not yet kissed, their souls have not been approached. I am to learn from these two the art of love, to bring that element back to man?

What farce is this? That I shall lie as the last victim to a failed concept of love, fresh with new wounds, forever active, held in fetters bound so tightly, my very being crushed in their grasp. How from these virgin bodies will I again acquire the sensuality of love, the erotica of lust; that pleasure of which is called intimacy, love’s interaction.

Elegy Four

Look at these pitiful creatures bound in flesh, do any of them know the consequences of love, do any care? Ah, there sitting there looking like a forlorn puppy, the man of my immortal twosome, the Romeo of fame. And what am I to learn from him, what can he teach me the god of love whose very name means sexual desire, who was celebrated as the symbol of fertilely equated in time and stature to that of Chaos.

This quest, that I have been commissioned to forcibly accept is a fool’s quest. Surely, those whose voices echo so predominantly must agree. Look at him, wide-eyed innocence himself, not a man, not in this epoch. Yet in his eyes, those crystal clear eyes, I see something, qualities of long forgotten existence, as if he had lived before. I will do as I am required, but nothing more, for less in this case is most worthy.

How strange to be inside a mortal body again, to feel sensations, to smell, to look through the eyes differently, yet identical to mine own. Such a new world this mortal being lives in, so full of hatred and evil, yet he still has that one spark of romance left, a hopeless case, a treasure that is fresh to behold. What is the cause of this spark, surely there must be a primer.

Elegy Five

Why am I drawn to she who walks there yonder? That one there dressed in the raiment of a scullery maid rather than that of a queen, one who is to be the archetypical model of love incarnate. A sapling, in mid-spring, like a wood nymph so young and fresh, innocence abounding yet her mind is cautious knowledgeable a trait that is a rarity to be found.

What a noisy place this commerce of eating that has me entrapped, but I listen not to the voices that surround me but to the beating of this mortal heart, the yearning of his soul to become one with her, this naiad of mortal flesh that has composed his dreams. How is it that without my arrow of love he has gone forth and found true love on his own? From first sight, he grasped her in his thoughts, unyielding in his devotion waiting the time for their souls to come together.

Is this what I am to learn, the love of a man, so passionate, so pure, so rich in complexity so much like life itself. Is this my punishment, to remember what I felt like, to remember those I loved, did love, lost to love. How my own soul aches, the suffering and torment of a million lost loves rips through my essences as I am forced to gripe the terror of my lack of positive reinforcement through my despicable inaction. How can this Max, this being hold so much promise, so much love for this simple girl.

Elegy Six

Thunder, I hear thunder snapping across the room, screams of panic as if a battle had commenced. I smell blood in the air, the stench of death has come quickly, but to whom. Instinctually I look to the lover, to the foundation of this essence, to the life, lying still upon the ground, breath ebbing from her anthropoid form.

The heart that I have adopted is beating so fast, the mind races as this body rises to flee to his lady. To undo what has happened, to instill love into her heart, to endear himself to her soul. It is strange I find myself shocked at the actions, as one who is with me holds me back, I am angered at being held against my will against that which is foreordained, that which must happen.

In the distance, I hear Thanatos death himself approach. “Nay! Stay back!” I shout to him, “Nay she does not die that which has been deemed to live, to return love to the world through his actions today and her sacrifice in the months to come.” Thanatos stopped, staring at me, no pity does he envision, no words can persuade him to retreat as he begins his gathering of her soul. “Nay,” I shout again, “it is a love of unequal. It is a love that must remain. Stand back. Let the events unfold, let their love give back to mortal man the essence of life, the essence of love.”

Elegy Seven

My demands went unanswered as I found myself standing over this slender graceful young woman, a true sylph as she began to return to the elemental being that would inhabit the air. So pale was her face, so red the blood that seeped from her ivory skin. Then he whose body, I now occupy a small space thereof, that which is called Max did with the strength of a god, healed her wound, a feat that even he himself was unaware of how it was accomplished or the full ramifications of his actions on future events.

As she came back to consciousness, his mind in melding with hers, took on a new aura, as he replayed visual descriptions of her, at a tender age, as the bloom of life yet had not opened. This was the time of his love; the very moment love had stolen into his heart. I found myself jumping like a schoolchild with joy as I turned to Thanatos, my voice screamed "Io Triumphe!" only to find he had vanished with the wind to another that needed gathering.

As the love of this one called Max, came to life I was pulled away, out of the noise and into a machine of great speed. I wished to stay. I nudged the Max into staying; do not take me away now I pleaded in his mind. I must know more, I must feel what she feels, this Liz of his dreams. I have just begun to relight the flame; there is so much more I have forgotten. This one act of sacrifice, in which this body that hold the soul of Max did, putting his very existence into danger so that she may live, enticed me, feed me a single drop of ambrosia. I now craved more, I desire more, I must learn so that I may return to Olympus and put right what is wrong. Return the world to Love and through Love to the essence of Life.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

<center> Elegy Eight </center>

Forthwith, before I can comprehend the world around me, the fast moving images, I find myself thrust into a war, an open war between he whom is called Max, that which I inhabit, and two close to him, the same, all three not quite human. They openly attack this one called Max for the sacrifice he made, the sacrifice that had to be made, the igniter of the love, the flame of the passion had to be lit. Can they not see that is pre-ordained? No, I sense no desire for humans, however platonic love one for the other, close knit, tight fellowship of love, that I do feel exists.

The female in relation to this one called Max, though their biological makeup is dissimilar, they are brother and sister, yet that part of them which is related is buried deep. She is a beauty, a goddess in her own right; truly my beloved Psyche would surly be envious of her stature and grace. Ah my voluptuous one, whose heart have you been given to, how many lovers have you broken with those eyes, those lips so sweet, that voice so sharp.

By the gods, flee from me, these thoughts of the other one, another boy, with dreams of being a man once, long distance past, of whose blood I sense follows the ancient song, the lyrical strings of Ares, a warrior at heart; one I need to be cautious of, love falls far from him. This one called Michael, fits his nemesis well, the avenger, the warrior who lead the armies to conqueror the forces of darkness, the demons; enemy.


<center> Elegy Nine </center>

This trio of beings fragile in their balance, their fluidity of movement is impressive; their very existence intrigues me, where did they come from? This one called Max, who controls the ancient healing arts of Podaleirios, yet I do not believe he is an immortal being like myself, nor elemental, nor one of personification. Nay, these three are different, not quite human, but mortal.

Did Zeus come out of slumber to rape another Europa into producing a viable breeding stock, or was this another Leda that he came forth in the swan so graceful and beauteous to her eyes that set in motion his love resulting in this trio’s birth. Could these three be but the off-springs, half humans of Zeus himself?

Nay, these souls that now lie within these mortal human flesh bodies be divine or not, they have been before. Is this works of the gods, miraculous, change, metamorphosed from one exterior form to another? I do not feel that any immortal who sits at the foot of Zeus, who lie in comfort on Olympus, had a hand in this matter. Tis’ act of their creation is not sinful I say, aye another force is at work; these come from the stars themselves, another race, another time, another world.


<center> Elegy Ten </center>

O cruel Fates, carest thou not care for my pleas, Atropos snip the golden thread that binds me to this life? Hast thee three have no pity on Eros, I who have done thy bidding Clotho, on numerous occasions. Alas, I am still here, listening to the ramblings of these two who are intent on belittling and ridiculing this Max, for his sacrifice. Do not they understand? Do not they see what his sacrifice entails?

Patience with you, I hear the voices demand, yet I cry out, my head fatigues. Why should I be concerned with these two, one who depicts love with a glacial heart, so cold that the unquenchable fire of Tartaros could not melt it? The other, may the gods protects us all, this one has walls of stone, even Achilles mighty Myrmidons with battlements would find it impregnable. Nay, I am done, you get no more of me.

More than once have I not screamed out, "Enough of this bickering, like chattel, they moan and whine, now go thy ways." Is not to be so, this love of Max and his Liz? Yet it will fail and flounder if these two loveless creatures are not bounded to this Khthon, the very soil that makes up this planet; or else all is lost, love is lost, the essence is lost. My arrows, polish them I shall, for my lesson, which I have undertaken to learn, does not end with the eternal soul filled love but must transcend across time and space, their love must ignite the flames of passion, for human flesh, in these two, one like a brother, one sister to the Max that I inhabit.

<center> Elegy Eleven </center>

Abruptly I am ripped from thought as fear grips, takes hold of my breath, my throat. I feel us race through the streets in this inferno machine of Dadelus, this Max hastens his being, fears being discovered, of being internally divined by some temple oracle as if he was a sheep. What do these incubus divine in the internal organs, for this trio are not Pheobus Apollo, who holds the knowledge of time itself, the past, the present, the future.

Liz, you are truly the impediment of the Epimeliads, the nymphs who in ancient days watched over the sheep, but here in this modern realm Max is now the sheep that you have chosen to protect. A plan, you devised a plan, worthy of Hermes himself to trick and deceive those who would harm the sheep in your care.

Alas! Thus I have imagine death, a pain I shall bear for all the ages. My Max, the Max of this body, cries out in his mind, tortured by the memory, by the utter uselessness to prevent what was, what happened, what had to happen. I looked upon the burning flesh, but not flesh, a strange craft that flew as the birds, and like Icarus came to close to the sun only to crash here in the desert. Those who died, of those who would had been their progenitors, I feel the trio weep internally for their past, for their future, surrounded by foolish mortals who laughing like hyenas, they jest at the spectacle of death.


<center> Elegy Twelve </center>

From atop the hill, she looks down on her Max, different they have agreed, no passion given, no desire shown, no kiss exchanged. Why! I demand. Why hast thou forsaken one for the other? No this cannot be, Max return to her, call upon her to take your hand, to ignite the fire. If you will not then I shall intercede and draw my arrows, deep into the psyche, your soul, the very essence of your mortal existence I shall fire.

Who speaks and says that I may not intercede, speak up, show yourself to me. Who says that I Eros that I may not change the course of these events? I am Eros; I have toppled mighty kingdoms, sent ships around the world on behalf of a face, and destroyed a man, by a mere mention, a wisp of the essence, so powerful no mortal can refuse. Why now am I barred from doing what I must, from what I was created to do, that which I excel.

So be it, let those who think this farce of jubilance is a treat for the mind. Enjoy your fool’s time, you who created this direction for our lovers, who wrote of the words, the dialogue they now speak. Alas, time is fleeing, love must be returned to the masses, Olympus demands it, love’s essence, the eternal hope for salvation this love of Max and his Liz.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

Thanks Thanette for your unwavering support, it means a great deal to me… s_e_r


<center> Elegy Thirteen </center>

Blink, a mere fraction of a second for those of flesh and blood, but for me it can stretch the fabric of time into minute, hours or days. Time is such a strange concept to one who is immortal, a mere second can be a lifetime, yet a lifetime can be a mere second. What a sad event these mortals must adhere to, just as the bloom of life had begun, the Fates see fit to snip the thread, ah we as gods can be so cruel some days. Yet even with all the power given to us in the universe, we cannot fathom this deep love, this love of Max and his Liz, it is a mystery to all who inhabit Olympus, a rare jewel, a deep emerald green, gift of life itself.

Where once I sang of battles as Ares himself endeavored, I am now rewashed to that life to return to the songs of immortal love, as far as thy task will allowed me to commence, I will sing of the treasure of love, the essence it embroils. My veins once again flow rich in crimson, thought, that were once dark as midnight, now clear, a shining brilliant reflection illuminates my soul, the light of love it self, a long lost sensation, what a fool I, Eros has been over the last centuries, that it took 2 mortal being to show me the error of my ways.

Alas I call upon, Melpomene, my muse of this elegy, as tragic as the name imposes, let this reverse itself. Let me be struck with the same sudden inspiration that conceived your birth, that one lightening bolt. AH, blessings were upon the world that glorious day when Zeus flashed down a bolt, exploding in inspiration that struck Mnemosyne; with such force that at a instant, in a second, that sudden and powerful moment when intuition and memory combined, you and your sisters were creative to give us insight into the mysteries of the universes. Grant me that insight now, so that I may bring forth love, let Erato, my eternal muse of mystical and erotic love shine forth, and lift the darkness from humanity illuminating the love of this Max and his Liz.


<center> Elegy Fourteen </center>

Time has hastened and yet my Max, he who I inhabit, has done little to ensure that the love remains true between him and his Liz. FOOL, I shout into his mind, FOOL if you don't keep an eye on she who is your soul mate, this Liz, then do not act surprised when another whets his desire for her. Do not be daunted by her apparent shy exterior, those of us who are versed in the art of love and it’s making, know that a man’s appetite is strengthen by rebuffs, for is not that the hopes and fears of love, the hidden texture, the lost knowledge.

Oh, luckless one that I am! I care not to hear about the happiness you entail in your dreams with she called Liz, when you who do nothing to ensure such a life. A catalysis must be placed into effect, one that will propel her into your arms, what could drive woman to such an action, to dream of he who is her life. Ah I remember, even lotus-covered banks could not persuade me to forget, ah this plan will be easy, I find no stumbling blocks. Once I create love for the warrior and for the sister, Max, he who is my mentor, will see the error of his ways and take Liz, delighting in her affection as he clings to her bosom.

Sleep overtakes me as I dream of my lover, not a placid love but a full-bodied, physical love that burned my soul and fired my blood. She thoroughly ensnared me in her trap, how many times have I fallen prey to her wiles, playing the injured innocent, guilting me into action when all along she was the one at fault. How many times did I allow this to happen, freely, happy to play the part? Ah and how many more times will I allow it to happen, these games of love, sex games they we all enjoy. Ah love she that revives the dying embers of my passion, she pandered to my longings, entwining her arms and legs about me, showering loving words over my being, words that I long to hear, peppered with luscious kisses of bliss. Ye gods how I long to be in her bed once again, my Psyche.


<center> Elegy Fifteen </center>

Blink and more time has hastened by, time that is too fragile to waste waiting for action, nay I must intercede. If I am not allowed to alter he who is Max or his Liz, then I will alter those that surround him. I, Eros will leave this body of my teacher my mentor and enter that of the warrior, the soldier, one different from the other as sand is to water, as midnight is from noon, as love is from hate.

You, there, the warrior, who has not felt the love of Aphrodite, the sting of my arrows, yes you will enter, you I must understand, you must alter you ways, to become more human, to help set forth this love of the Max of your line and Liz of Earth. You will for the first time take up the standard of Aphrodite and display to for all to see, for others to follow. Puzzled, I am puzzled on how to accomplish this feat, the walls are strong, ah yes it is obvious; my next task will be to bend you to her will, to break the walls. But lo, Athena inspire me, sharpen my wisdom, let me see how to accomplish this feat, away from them who shadow each other, a time alone, for one to see what the other is.

Ye gods, I am truly blessed for fortune had fallen into my lap, he who instructs them in the arts of science and literature has forced upon the unhappy pair an assignment requiring cooperation, togetherness, from this encounter the flint with strike emitting a small spark, that is all I , Eros need, one small spark. What, nay, now he refuses to work with her, ah this warrior, this soldier, who does not remember battles, is an obstinate one?


<center> Elegy Sixteen </center>

Once again, I find myself in a speeding inferno of a machine that surely Hades himself dreamt up. Why men in this realm of reality find speed so exciting to their being? Things pass by too quickly already for mortals, do they no longer stop to see what is under them, around them, above them. Nay, look for example at these two here trapped within my sight are not even seeing the attraction that one feels for the other.

How do I remind these two lovers, destined to be, how failure to show one to the other love that is contained with in their hearts, may result in tragedy. Was it not the fair, Ariadne, who now wanders the cold, lonely barren coastline of Naxos, scarcely taking her eyes off the waves? She stands there on the cliffs, her long mane of golden splendor shining in the sun, tears of lost love she sheds for her Theseus, the seas themselves have swollen due to her lamentation. Is this what the two here in this damnable machine want, to be miserable for eternity because they feared taking that one-step.

Nay, I will not let it happen, I cannot allow this to happen, if I cannot control this warrior then I shall influence the other, she, a fiery being that would give Zeus himself a reason to fear and flee Olympus if she had been his Hera. Relief, ye gods, relief, my pleas have been answered; this damnable machine has coughed to a stop. It is as if Zeus with his thunderbolt has struck down this beast in its path, the lifeblood oozing, the final breath steaming from its nostrils.


<center> Elegy Seventeen </center>

Alas, my warrior does have a sense of battlefield actions; he has stopped this beast in front of the night couch, one of delights and pleasure. Ah, maybe I have misjudged this one. He may yet have what it entails to take this Maria to his bed, into his arms, where he will find love, the love to enflame Max into action.

Wait what is this, Ares, hear me, is this one of your warriors, there are now words, words of anger, hidden desire covered by words of anger doth come from their mouths. Oh Aphrodite, my mother, remind this woman of love, of the pleasure that man seeks. Why? Why am I sent here, to these children, who do not know the meaning of what games they play? At least I can take calmness of mind in knowing that this warrior, this soldier is a man of honor, who would sleep upon the harden ground before be smudging the reputation of this lady, his lady thought he doth protest that fact.

Failure, is this night a failure for me, have I lost my chance in connecting this Michael to Maria. Nay wait, what is this I see, Max and his Liz coming to rescue the fair maiden from the grasp of the solider. The story deepens, for who trails them he in the shadows and comes now to claim his prize. It is another warrior, a warrior of the games, not of the sword, coming not to challenge the warrior of the sword for his damsel but he comes to take Liz away. Ah a rival for her affections, this does my heart well, for Max, I do sense jealousy emitting from his as he stands between her and this Kyle, of the games. All is not lost, it has only begun, the temperature is on the rise, the games are just begging to be played, I Eros excel in games, in tantalizing mortals to bend them to the will of time. Ah what fun I may have after all, who said I could not enjoy these mentors, as I seek the truth of love, from this Max and his Liz and their immortal love.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

<center>This is the last part to be posted for a while; this story will be on hiatus, I am not sure for how long, a day, a week, a month, I am undecided at this time. Just thought if anyone was reading you might want to know why the sudden silence since I am known to update frequently. Thanks to those who did provide feedback for the show of support and to those who are reading.</center>


<center> Elegy Eighteen </center>

Time flies, one minute I am sitting on a strange leather seat, wondering what animal produced this hide, a color of blue not unlike the sky, while all the time watching Michael banter with his lady that one does not do well in the art of flirtation. Caveman is more his style, tempted as I am to find a club, to bring some passion and romance into these lives I force myself to exhale a breath of air; I seize the moment screaming into his auditory track, hoping to stir the cold dead embers of his cortex, “Ye gods have no direction no sense, kiss her you fool of a mortal.” I suddenly see a change, I watch mesmerized, my words did he hear. This Michael, whom I had given up hope one, this Michael grabbed Maria in his arms and kissed her. “Yes,” I yelled “Look Aphrodite, the one that has stone walls, has a crack.” The were was hope Pandora ’s Box had been opened.

The next moment this Michael, that kissed his fair lady, so full of life and passion, though his technique had little to be desired in the art of love. This Michael, the warrior, named for the avenger, succumb to being wrapped in a web as if Arachne herself had done the spinning. He lay motionless, as those who loved him out of friendship or alien bounds gathered around, passing between them a simple bowl of water as they each entered the plane of dreams, the abode of Morpheus himself who slumbers away.

I watched fascinated, unable to tear myself away, the powerful emotional tides that washes off Max, ties that bind brothers, this Max, my Max my mentor was strong in the bounds of friendship, in his love for this Michael. The same I can feel from Isabel, the ice statue, I had feared, fortunate smiles down on me as I am wrong, I had feared she was heartless. To her, I must find a man who will love her, her inner being, that which makes her a special gift a unique beings, aside from the heavenly stars addition.

<center> Elegy Nineteen </center>

Zeus and his thunderbolts could not have devised a more devious plan than the one that has inspired me into action. I removed myself from this warrior and went far from where people gathered, where noises were distracting, into the wilderness where my voice could be heard. “Hear me,” I cried out into the desert air, “Notus I call upon you to send for a south wind, hot sultry, to heat up the night and day.”

My plan was simple, so complex in thought yet simple to materialize, an experiment in chemistry, heat up the nights for longing for passion, influence the dreams for romance, and for the day I will draw my arrows at those all around my charges and strike them with the fever. It is so simple, when one sees what the other has; the desire to have that is assured. Simple human fragility, desire, passion; yea it is to be hormones.

Ah, alas, here he comes; it was only a matter of time before the hot air combined with a touch of sexual arousal, filtered through even an alien’s brain. Wait, ? hast no pity on me? thou wilt be my death at the last. Why do you turn and begin to walk away. Go Back, you foolish being, she awaits, your Maria, awaits you. That is right look at her, a fresh rose in bloom, glass and then a lock is all that remained to keep them parted.


<center> Elegy Twenty </center>

Alas my plan has come back to haunt me, devastating was the backlash, a reaction I did not envision. Liz, she who is dear in Max’s heart, crushed at the sight of Michael and this Maria, embraced in passionate kisses. Instead of propelling her into Max’s arms as I had surmised this would, she now doubts herself.

My heart, I cannot stand the pain in her face as she looks at the two, wondering why she and Max cannot have the same passion. I can see her mind, so open and confused; she had accepted they would not be together, one different from the other. She had scientifically reason that physically it would to be incapable, but she had not foreseen what was taking place before her eyes, human passion, between alien and non.

She takes up her pen, I watch with heavy eyes, for this is my fault I have cast this doubt in her head, this doubt she now carries with her. How could I have been so foolish, could I not see this turn of events? Nay, I was blinded with the arrogance of my ways, too full of my grandiose plan, my visions of returning to Olympus triumphant after only a few mere seconds of being gone. Oh, my heart, what have I done?



<center> Elegy Twenty-One </center>

Now too I lay down my quill with heavy heart for I have failed, unable to understand to concede this love, I have failed in my attempts. Truly, that which was written of me, “a poor imitator of a greater writer” verily that is the truth for I, Eros am a poor poet, a mediocre writer, my attempts have shamed Olympus; my elegies had done nothing to inspire the love of Max and his Liz.

A true poet hath the power to move compassion into the unfeeling doors; a true poet hath the power to enraptured the moon and draw her into the earth; a true poet hath the power to batter down the walls of a fortress with a mere flick of the wrist; truly it has been said that a true poet hath the power unlock the heart of a maiden with an invisible key. Aye that is true poetry, true writing of a master, unfortunately I, Eros was not school as such, and undertaking of this task has proved to be futile.

The voices that I heard, that one strong voice among the others challenging me to take on this task, was but an echo of my own desire to prove myself worthy again, to once more stand in the presence of Olympus with laurels about my head.

It is better that I, Eros go back to sleep, the sleep of death, for that is the punishment of failure; I truly do not belong in this realm, or for that matter any realm on this world. It has taken this lamentation to awaken my eyes, I, Eros have failed.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

Thanette and magikhands thanks so very much for your support and comments. Do not think this section would had happened without your words encouraging to my soul. Thanks so much s_e__r


<center>Elegy Twenty-Two</center>

Whom among my immortals is responsible for the failed plan of Eros. Speak forthwith or fear my thunderbolts when I Zeus learn of the truth. Was it you Hera, my beloved wife, was it you in your demented mentally that struck down this love between Max and his true soul. My Queen, did envy poison those cold veins, the strange alien emotions this eternal love, this devotion, that thou hast never felt; the green eyes of the peacock, was it you in a jealous rage over two that found love, so angered your being that you threw down a curse that hampered the plan of Eros.

Aye, ‘twas you or ordered minions, you hath cost us immortals dearly, my wife, your jealousy once again may have damned those mortals that serve us, leaving the world in anger. Dare not again interfere, throw down no more curses, let not your jealously consume you for in hatred you grow stronger, take care in the gentleness of life. Hera, my wife whose shares my marital bed, listen henceforth, you cannot stop this eternal bliss, this seed of ecstasy that once sown will cover the world, a new world.

Hermes, draw near, with thy winged feet, hear me of thy task, be present my Hermes, assist in my desire. Fly on your winged feet, stay true your course, oh friend of these mortal beings, orator of old, deliver to these being my message. Eurus unseen come forth, upon whose soften gales I now command to bear Hermes eastward, across the ocean away from the sirens.


<center>Elegy Twenty-Three</center>

Howbeit I have wielded the quill; drama and tragedy did not I write, did not my arrows make those words; words of endearment and enchantment come true. The mantle I chose to place upon my back was that of desire, of longing, of a burning feeling that no mere mortal can reject, that all in time must succumb to, yes event hose who dared to have come to this dimensional realm of earth from the very stars themselves.

Whom comes there yonder, flying with such quick speed and movement. Aye it is the messenger himself, Hermes, come down from Olympus surely to chastise me for my failure. Zeus, hast not thou punished me, you who sent Apollo high in his chariot, the wheels ablaze in fire, that fire which burns this land; does not the mere lizard that doth hide beneath this boulder from his wrath, and what of Hephaestus himself, aye I fear that even Hephaestus, god of fire himself, would fear this parched soil.

How I once again yearn for the simple life, not to be concerned with these mortals and their flights of fancy. To be wedded by some Thestylis, aye a rustic maiden, who bruise the grapes with thine hands, crushing, releasing the bouquet into my mouth. Ah but that is not what the Fates have deemed for me, So I sit here, awaiting Hermes and his message, wasting among the corpses, life once green now ashes under Apollo’s direction, how appropriate for my failure has damned man from all hope, from any flicker of love.


<center> Elegy Twenty-Four </center>

Upon the winged feet, Hermes did speed, in the bosom of the wind that cradled him securely as he raced towards the desert land, parched, so unlike his home on Olympus. His destination , the place to which he was commanded to set flight, this place called Roswell, where on a boulder in the desert land of no water and scorching heat he found Eros, contemplating his failure. “Eros, I am sent by Zeus himself to command of you to once again regain the love that eternal love needed so desperately throughout the word.”

"Return to Zeus say there is no more, for I , Eros failed, she who is called Liz , is mortally wounded she weeps tears of isolation, to be separate from the one called Max, for he hath decided that they are different, there is no hope." Hermes, upon hearing this spoke without fear or regret; "Aye Eros, they may be different, for their homes are in two realms, but alas hope was released from her confinement by Pandora, does this not to be honored, to be held sacred in thy bosom."

Sigh ,my heart is heavy, I Eros, feel deep inside a void, but Hermes speaks the truth, I must continue, must preserver. "Return Hermes with this message for those immortal who hold Zeus words as poetry in motion, that when Orion and Sirius come into the mid-heaven and Dawn’s rosy rays began to wane from Arcturus I shall once again set out on my quest. I, Eros will accomplish my task, or I myself will take up residence in Tartarus damned for eternity to roll my burdens up the hill. "


<center>Elegy Twenty-Five</center>

Blink, another mere blink, time has gone forth, disastrous events have unfolded between he called Max and his love. They now play games, to play off one off the other in attempts at jealously, showing each that the ocher has no room in their life. Ah, my head hurts looking at these vain attempts, my Max, this Max is no fool, he can see through such frivolous attempts. College men indeed, statements bound to backfire when confronted, aye it is time to stop such foolishness.

Cruelty is they name, what now has been revealed, who among the immortals doth influenced Maria, the fair maiden of our warrior. Ahh… of course, my mother Aphrodite, this is her handiwork. Mother, my mother, I beg you to stay out of mortal man’s affair just this once. Liz is meant for Max, not for this shallow being, this media hungry dog, romantic tryst to be announced over the waves, the air itself to be witness to such acts and deeds, may the gods be forbidden from such lewd behavior.

Quirites, those ancient spearmen of Rome, sharpen thy points and end my torment, I am forced to watch eagle eyed as I contemplate this shallow being in his sad attempts at romance. Mother, Aphrodite, this one does need your help, but find another to entertain his time, for Liz is for Max, that is true.


<center>Elegy Twenty-Six</center>

Bacchus come forth, let me see thy face, that thou hast hidden from me these many moons. I, Ares am in need of your talent, to go forth to this land called Roswell, where Apollo hath scorched the land. Go, take one called Kyle, a player in games where he doth commence his studies, take him, ply him with your wine, induce, seduce with the grape, pointing him to the direction of the one called Max. Yea before your deed is done, influence the one called Max to drink of the grape, to ingest that which will cloud and confuse his mind, lower his inhibitions.

Ah, mine ears Ares I hear you, but why should I, Bacchus, do thee a favor. You who trick, cajole, and belittle me, those devoted to my calling. Aye, I will do this task you have set before me, but be forewarned return a favor I demand from you, bound by your word to honor that bound when called upon.

What, what by all that is holy on this sacred site, my Max he doth come, I smell upon him intoxicating aroma of Bacchus. Now I must renter my Max, take again up residence in that portion of him, to control the damage he may incur in this condition. Sensation, this is odd, even for a hybrid, half human like Hercules, the nectar of Bacchus has strange side effects. What fortune, I have been blessed, in this state I, Eros am capable of altering Max, recreate him in the passion of love, freer in his actions and thoughts. As evidence of this state, Max, with my hand guiding him, left his heart imprinted on her wall, the heart of love, the eternal love of ME + LP.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

Thanks Island Breeze for th ekind words.. they mean a lot to me. Thanks also to all who are reading for the support... s_e_r

<center> Elegy Twenty-Seven </center>

Alas my trials never end, barely sowed one small iota, seamlessly into he called Max, the Max, he where I doth hide within, the vow he made his love upon the wall, he who flung caution to the winds and on Zephyrus did he not dare to show the inner self, his true being. And then just as he dares and takes his fair maiden into his arms for a kiss of passion, he succumbs to common sense; eluding to a faulty memory, a fallacy, a mere bending of the truth, for Max, this Max, the sexual attraction, the draw, the magnetic polarity for this one called Liz, is intense, unlike any I have witnessed.

Falsehood may play upon his lips, the words he forces from his breath, alas, foolish mortal the seed has been sown, you have been consumed, brought down into the darkness of difference. Do not sink further, for it is not the difference, but the similarities that bind you one to the other. Be not Leander do not drown lost in the way, the light beckons to you; do you not see it’s illumination, on yon distance shore lies your Hero, your Liz, take the swim Max, make the pace fast and swift.

Ah my Max, my charge, take the calling, for you said it yourself, “What's so great about normal.” Embrace who you are, rejoice in what you are, celebrate life for it is a gift, and love is essential to that gift. Is it not written, in the ancient scrolls that every man who loves a woman deep and true shall drink of her nectar, sweet-honey and she in return shall share his delight and with him sail on the breezes of affection, lust, and fidelity. Let your last days be enveloped in each other’s arms, as were Philemon and his Baucis, upon their death transformed into a oak and a lime, their bought eternally intertwined, rewarded for their love and kindness.

<center> Elegy Twenty-Eight </center>

Time once again flees, so many events hath happened to those in my charge I fail to understand the significance of their lives upon mere mortal man. My attention hath been drawn away from the love of Max and Liz to be confronted with a treacherous evil vile monstrosity in the form of him who proclaims in false voice the art of caring. Alas, my heart has grown disenchanted, for I have seen cruelty, unbounded hate spoken forth from those lips of one who claims to father this one, the warrior, the Michael, archangel of the far distance place. Man can be so malevolent, those who have soured the milk of human kindness, those with no soul, how their hearts can beat, why hath Zeus allowed them to breed, fill their stomachs, continue to exist, I fathom it not.

He who is called Michael, the warrior, listen to me, listen to the voice in your ear, the fire of your blood, your interrelationship with he call Max and she called Isabel, fall deep into the soil, the roots firmly implanted in those ancient resurrected bounds. Yu have build up the walls, stone slabs rebuff all who dare pass by, yet even if your were to metamorphosed yourself into a stone boulder like Galatea, still your heart was raised human, you can not escape the traitorous memories, the anger, the betrayal, the feeling of unwanted. Nay, you cannot leave, this is not the solution; no power hath on earth no heavens above can keep you from these two, return; return and accept the gracious gift so offered to you, the gift of life, free from the bounds of slavery.

Escape from your fetters, bear it with no shame, for you hath done no wrong. It was your mentor, the one who errs, it is he who has earned the wrath of the gods; he is damn to live in Tantalus, damned for all time for inhumanity. The fault lies there, in that false existence, not in you; take what has been offered, reflected in the eyes of Max and Isabel, bound to them, one to the other, forever it shall be.


<center> Elegy Twenty-Nine </center>

Elegy, my muse of words, hast thou forsaken me! Ye gods I call out, nay I cry out to Erato with your crown of roses, the muse of my tongue, return to me the lyrics of forbidden passion, aye, Mnemosyne, give back the memory to ignite the flames. This institution of learning, see how the others interact act with each other, the males seek out the females, challenged in mortal combat, will against will, mind against mind. See your Liz, contemplate her, my Max, he who I am inhabiting, look at how she coyly glances your way, inviting you into her embrace. What is this pretense that you find so enchanting, this facade that you wear like a badge, is this illusion or is the reality created by the human desire to belong, to be part of that which is alien to yourself that you seek.

Why, I do not comprehend, why do you pull back, to you have see inside, you have experienced, you know the key to your past, to the future of all, is that kiss, that touch, that sexual union of two bodies writhing in sublime pleasure, two souls intertwined. Yield to that passion, yield as Hephaestus yielded to my mother Aphrodite, as Do not abandon her as Paris did to Oenone for the beauty of Helen, nor as Theseus did leave Ariadne upon the shores of Naxos, forever to pine for his return. She has seen you, the inner self that which makes you both alien and human let those feeling come forth.

To entice this one, this one called Max, I must extend my memory back, into the ancient realm of man’s minds, to the days when magic and wonderment ruled, to the days of the magic of a philter, a seductive concoction, a remedy devised by the hands of Aphrodite herself, to enflame the soul, to stir the passion, of one so young, so regal. Surely, just one wisp of its breathe, the sweet savory aroma, oxidizing the cranial fluid into waves of sexual prowess, the imagery of virility will spurn him into action.

<center> Elegy Thirty </center>

The immortals of Olympus themselves have blessed me, a miraculous event has occurred, a kiss, a kiss of hope, of dreams, of the future has finally passed between Max and the one called Liz, without my philter, the heavenly nectar of erotic passion. This kiss I felt surge, a lightening bolt, of great magnitude, it ripped through my senses, tearing into my immortal soul. The power that this Max feels, the power of this love, this mortal love destined to renew the world, is unfathomable; no immortal had ever felt such a sensation.

Yah, this surge did not end with a simple kiss it transcended time and space bring forth dreams, or are they realities, mystifying glimpses into the world before their birth. Is this some illusion that Morpheus hath cast, his art of deception, of dreams, images that we see, eluding us, playing to our sub-conciseness. Nay, I do not believe these glimpses, she doth seen, are figments, but real, truthful events, accounts of days long past. And how is this to have been done, how can she, alien as it may be, see what transpired past and future from but a simple kiss.

Twas the hour hath already past, the warrior , he of action and sexual prowess and she the princess, though possessed of a heart of ice, did force, disguised in the interest of knowledge and understanding of their past, who and what they are; nay they did shove you, my charge, in the direction of an erotic night, filled with the promise of sex and love. The music though suggested had little to be desire to mine ears; I set things right as I interceded and brought forth Melpomene, ah whose sweet lyre enamored thee, songs of love that pulsate the trembling breast.

<center> Elegy Thirty-One </center>

I have dissociated my self from Max, he who I am to learn, to learn of love, intent on leaving the lovers to their moment of privacy, but I am transfixed, unable to move as I watch the dance between them begin. The movements so sensual, so carnal in the rawness of sex, truly epicurean pleasures abound in their every breath.

My eyes cannot leave the body displayed before me, young taut rippled muscles contact and expand as he, the Max of this story glides his body over hers; his finely chisel body carved by the hands of Pygmalion whose fame brought life to his creation. My eyes did envision a sight none hath seen before, illuminator, a blue glow, as if their souls were coming forth to intertwine, coming out of their bodies tomeld into the other. I have seen no such sign like this in mine lifetime, be so many centuries as I have been, alien, it is alien to our world, to our realm, to our dimension.

I grab my chest, the burning inside for my wife consumes me, the pain hath become unbearable as I watch the two young lovers, first love, first encounter, pangs me for my Psyche for out first night that we held each other in rapture. Did you blush like these, did it feel so young, so fresh, my mind hold such a faint memory of that encounter, so many centuries ago. The air doth grow thick with excitement, I know I must pull away, but I am glued, the poison of the lotus has cast into my soul. It is only the intrusion of she called Maria that brings the senses back into alignment, breaking the spell, stopping what was to have been, the pleasures of the flesh for ones so young, this love of Max and his Liz, for the time will come, the time is earmarked, it has begun.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

<center> Elegy Thirty-Two </center>

Twas the hour of their passion, that slow ebb flowed through, spinning faster, spinning steadily out of control, that passion, few have known, even fewer comprehend the eternal desire, of one for the other. Max, my Max the hero of our story, our song of love, painful as that art to be, did recline upon that couch, the bliss did ensure from his lips, culmination was assured, heat-filled pitch. In his arms doth laid his desire the one true love, into the dance they commenced, into the bosom of Anteros, aye they did embrace.

Appearing out of the air, came a wall that crashed between Max and his intended, that graceful nymph of his dreams, his Liz, their love destined to rekindle the spark of romance throughout the world. Yea this wall did emerge, the wall did form in that of friendship, one female that binds to another, forces that a mere males, mortal nor divine, does not dare to reckon with. This force of womanhood, this wall, did take our Liz from his arms and shielded her from the sexual energy that flowed from this one not human not alien.

Max, my Max the one that I did dwell within, I can feel the pain of love snatched from his arms, the act not complete, the dying song cast amber the fading embers, that hath caused the sexual fervor. Max, our Max, his blood doth boiled for his Liz, the desire harden in his flesh, her touch he still yearns for, that soft flesh he fondled with tenderness, that flesh with yield to him, drove out into the night. Aye my hearts bleeds for him, for the fervid that almost was. Aye it tis I Eros, who allowed the world to die, It is I Eros who allowed Love to die.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

<center> Elegy Thirty-Three </center>

From deep inside the bowels of hell itself, from the pits of Tartarus, from the throne room of Hades himself, his bird-headed staff ready and poised, from there a foul stench was emitted, more vile than brimstone more potent sulfur. A demonic force brought forth in the guise of a female, created to beguile out Max, the Max of our story of our lore.

Limbo held her in his grasp her mind blank, not yet formed, not yet come into existence. The sauces of their own world, the rich flavors of shame, loathing, envy, and contempt, these elements were woven in her mind to represent the need to be wanted, need to be held, need to breed, need to destroy the love of Max and his Liz. She was to be called Tess in this life, to send the world forth into eternal damnation, to eternal darkness.

Cast into a human mold, into the formation of Aphrodite, this vile creature took shape. Innocent looking in all her appearance, she was created to portray, human no, another there being, no. She was created to serve evil, to take the Max, the soul of Love, away from the earth. She was created to tempt him, with apples of delight, with fruit of her womanhood, the essence of desire.

[suicide_eagle_rath]

Elegy Thirty-Four

Aye it was Ares himself who called forth the Daimones those spirits of weakness, conditions that exist in every mortal on earth. He called then forth, to wreak havoc upon the mortals of terra firma. A small laugh he thought a mild amusement in his misery of solitude and despair. He called forth Eris, together with her, they created, in the sanctuary of sex, in the arousal of fire; they created the idea, the ultimate laugh on earth.

They wove the elements of strife and discord into a fine mesh that they cast over the world. On top they sprinkled discord, the complexity of rivalry and hatred that mortal man feels one to the other. The sprits circled Ares, the personifications of existence they aroused the emotions, crating fervor, enticing man to act without thought, without mortality.

The dark, shadows glowed brightly in Ares presence, they came forth from deep inside chthon, the dark earth, the soil of death. Using the minute particles, those from time immortal they infused the clay of life with intense dispassionate, emotionless thoughts and idea. It is that clay that the potter used that clay to fashion the she demon, she who would provide the catalysts to entreat, to destroy Max of out story, the hero of our lore.