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. ❤
I truly loved it! I am grateful, too.
thank you so much! cupid is a tricky fellow, showing up when you least expect it!