Death and the Maiden

There was a man intimate with death

he wore it around his shoulders closely

expected it around every corner 

and therefore was not surprised when it struck

and it did strike

at his nearest and dearest and enemies alike

he believed himself to be invulnerable

apart

and was therefore already a wraith

a ghoul all sinew and fume

he sought succor in drink and war

and walked as a ghost through Dionysius lair

then one night he encountered a maiden

warm, pulsing with life, but perched precariously on a precipice

and he was smitten

he would own her if he could

she would provide return passage across the Styx

she was contained but wild

and if he showed her his darkness she would understand

he would keep her safe

she would contain his curse

he would relish the simple joys

and she would understand

and so he worked steadily

to build her a gilded cage

for now his constant fear was her flight

he offered servitude and guardianship

he offered his soul if she would have it

but his soul was a wizened thing

and there was little use for it really

and servitude is only charming for a while

free things do not like cages built for their own protection

and while they may flirt with death

they neither seek nor fear it

for any length of time

their wonder always returns to them

so she who's spirit was always just beyond his grasp

with scarce a backward look

slipped away completely