Coreligionists, all happened for a reason


The plenipotentiaries dressed in royal blue
Had been mumbling paternoster
On the day an army of defeated ghosts
Instead of victorious soldiers
Approached the citadel.

After three or twenty-three years,
The thorax of the city, the disciples of
Sophists and cynics
Lapsed into a monastic state, the last ones
Could have been the Epicureans.

And when the prodigies
That were lucky enough not to be massacred
First inhaled burning incense,
Then unlike true Christians, but like
Byzantine pariahs
Of an ancient religion, strove to save their
Penelope from patriarchs, sought and found
In secret places Dionysus dismembered
And her husband
With their son reduced to ashes,
And then became so strict because of sorrow,
That invented myriads of sad annual

Out in the sea, a strange raft still
Floats though now empty, returning to Troy,
Leaving Ithaca.

Circe, Calypso, Sirens and Cyclops
All gone, just like an open link
That closed without ever becoming
One with the chain, or just like
A shepherdess lost in an enigmatic blizzard.

© ifyouplease 2019
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no comments or critique sought.
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