The Sun finds her on desert, hot and drear.
Dry, depleted, drained.
Hera, help me! Her desperate screams ring out
in profound despair.
She falls on fiery sand, fine skin aflame.
O Hera, end this agony, I ask!
Zeus' Queen in pity pauses at her tasks,
regarding Lamia's plea.
A sister's suffering touches her, and Hera's mercy
lifts the girl.
Lamia, I must not usurp my husband Zeus,
but I can ease his unjust sentence.
This I promise.
But when the swirling winds begin to blow
the driving rain
Briefly, the ground will have you again. Lamia -
will you go?
Dejected, Lamia nods assent, resigned, accepting fate.
Let me go to the tempestuous skies.
So Hera entices the eastering gales to play,
and she teases the lightning down.
And Lamia places a trembling, thankful kiss softly
on Hera's brow.
Lamia, betrayed by god, by love, by man,
utters no word.
Magical mist does Lamia climb, heartsick and dolor,
taking her grief to the restive Empyrean shore.
But legend would have it said of her,
she flies by storm and Moonlight yet.
Tales the sheperds weave like wool say Lamia
is a witch.
Sailors on the seven unsettled seas, say Lamia
still steals souls.
Wives, in worried vigilance, stand valiant watchful guard
over husbands' dreams until the welcomed dawn.
And new mothers press their precious children close
so the demon will pass their hearth.
When the thunder crashes, and the deluge falls -
firmament to earth,
Then once more She walks in gossamer gloom,
disturbing, disquieting man.
Blood is life.
Thus Lamia lives. Forever, in the Crystalline Sphere.
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