Old legend of woe:

A young flower maiden who

Was assaulted so.

 

Stranger comes along,

Wrenches her from this world and

Enslaves her below.

 

That tale is changing –

No more suffering, no sad

 Tale of grief and loss.

 

A new tale unfolds,

One of mutual love. A

New Persephone.

 

Young Persephone

Humming, glides through the meadow

In great irony.

 

She fell in love with

Jagged scars and iron blades

Slash! Her life fades away.

 

She tumbles through weeds

And dead little flowers, falls

Early to her grave.

 

Awaking, who should

She find, but the god of the

Afterlife, Hades.

 

No more classes, no

More chores, no pain that’s ignored.

Lovely death lady.

 

Hades is grim, he

Doesn’t know what to say, but

Reaches out his hand.

 

He says, “Why have you

Chosen death?” She replies, “You

Would not understand.”

 

From that day, a love

Was born. Persephone was

Happy for a time.

 

But spring came again,

And she could not undo what

Was done blind. She cried.

 

Her tears fell below,

And golden leaves sprouted up

Like shining spires.

 

 Blossoming, blooming

Fruits of all kinds. She took a

Bite from lush fire.

 

A pomegranate.

Blood-red orb, to restore her

Body and soul to spring.

 

So, for two seasons,

She returned to the surface,

The land of Living.

 

And for two seasons,

She traveled back underground,

To find Lord Hades,

 

Forever her love, standing by her side.