Monday, February 4, 2013



Mystic guardian of sin, sealed within one chest,
Giver of treasures, creation of Earth.
Punishment forged into a woman's breast,
by beings of a supernatural birth.
Conceived from Prometheus' plunder,
Retribution of the sacred light of fire,
And demanded genesis of the God of Thunder,
Thus impending events transpired.

Seductive gifts were bequeathed to thee,
A figured immortalized by an act of such.
Endowed the eager character of curiosity,
A pithos observed by a sense of touch.
Doth the hands of yours betray,
Or by your gift you have been burned?
Were you enticed and led astray,
Or revenge had settled after spurned?

Unjustly victimized by an unintentional mistake,
Seen as feeble minded and scorned.
Blamed for the bodies that always ache,
But never once were you forewarned.
Demons unleashed upon hallowed grounds,
But perhaps present before said time.
Tainted with evil they do drown,
Human nature in filth and grime.

Box of bone and blood you did protect,
A craft which can not diminish your worth.
Restrained the demons before you were subject,
To their wide alluring girth.
I condemn you not, fair goddess of gifts,
Even though that sacred item you did grope.
The lid you did purposely lift,
For that small ounce of Hope.

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