Illusion.

The king is dead;long live the king
All the citizens sing
What can you do when time is up,
The illusion of power dries right up
Castles crumble with naught; but a single blow
Moats dry up;
Once proud and mighty,
The kingdom’s spirit usurped
As if in metaphor, of what was, and what will be;
Our Athena too, was taken from us.
Was our grandeur even real?
Or were the gods creating an illusion?
What seemed indestructible…
Broken down.
Dead.

HIS.

She believed we were solo acts,
Roaming the earth to find our partner.
He believed in nothing.
But when he took her hands in his
She realised that the world faded away….
And that she was dancing to his rhythm;his beat..
And that rhythm, that dance slowly consumed her.
She was his.
She had found her partner.