Cupid’s Enlightenment

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Skinny fingers grasp the threaded line

Pulling back the thin fragments with a practiced hand

Eyes focused, not on object of manipulation but within the two figures out of reach;

The one and the two of the mission

The Amor, as he’s called, marks each piece of the puzzle with his target;

The cross point to aim so as not to confuse the scattered faces and bodies

Humming a familiar lullaby tune

Another mindless act to balance the shot

Calculating wind and distance, counting down breaths until the perfect moment

Two arrows let loose from his single bow

A skillful act of original tradesmanship of the god of love, son of Venus

Forgetting his resentment to his indifference, he contemplates what will happen to his latest victims

Unusually curious enough to sit upon his gargoyle perch to see the story unfold

Imagining his sport as a work of art and reflecting on the murals dedicated to his masterpieces of past

As an excited child he waits, watches as one lover finds another

Two hearts beating to the similar thoughts projected from their maker’s intense stare

Mystified, he trembles, he questions mortality and the gift of happiness

Longing to understand the passion of pain brought about by the penetration of his pointy arrowhead;

Staking claim as the narrator of their story

The reality of his genius keeps his heart beating

Even without the possibility of ever surrendering to his own magic.

I am grateful for Cupid’s art. ❤

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