He’s calling to me again, that unearthly baritone vibrating up through the bedrock and soil, sending shivers through the tall grass,

(you’d opened the earth to find me when Demeter’s pretty daughter fell and found a new fate- i shouldn’t hate an innocent girl, how could she have known?)

A whisper wending slowly, purposefully across the distance between us to crawl from the soles of my bare feet up to anchor my hips and spine,

(she ate fruit from the tree i’d planted before i left, i’d buried my soul and a few of my bones to feed you until i could come home)

The ghost of your basso profundo rumble pooling at the base of my skull, wrapping itself around my jaw, curling up into my mouth,

(and now she sits next to you, all hands having been tied by the will of an arrogant god, corrupted with the loathing of a brother he couldn’t conquer)

I open my throat and sing this depthless, bruised blue into the night for you, painting a sky you so rarely see,

(living for the nights when you can slip away and press your palms to the bedrock above, living for the moments i can feel you, adhaesit pavimento anima mea)

My moon whispering from miles below the world as the fates wash us away again- lifetimes, centuries, eons lived and lost at their mercy.