Work Text:
The moon controls the tide,
this we all know.
It pulls and moves, twists and grasps.
Something in us knows, deep down,
That we are creatures of land.
Prometheus, our forefather, gifted us flame,
This we all know.
But the ocean calls.
Old myths claim sirens,
Creatures designed to drag us into the depths.
Yet was it those sirens, beckoning us closer,
Or was it us?
The ocean calls, many do not return.
There is something deep in the sea,
An innate desire, perhaps.
Our bodies, at last, drifting to bay.
The ocean called.
Oh Poseidon, father of sea,
I cry out for Prometheus and thee.
An unlikely matrimony.