The world seemed dim. I arose each morning, in my lacrymosity, to find that the birds did not sing as they used to. I missed their beautiful songs. Each of them hummed their tunes to form a harmonious orchestra of sounds and emotions, holistically filling me to the brim with joy and laughter. In my excitement, and hopped around ineptly (for I possessed no skill in the art of dance), and the birds seemed to follow in my lead as if to accompany me. On the ballroom floor we danced, endlessly and tirelessly, till suddenly the lights grew dim. A figure emerged from the darkness as if ascending from the underworld. This, a woman, shined like the light from a prism, Each color guiding her feet as she moved. Her very presence, as luminescent as it was, outshown those around her. She was a lilly among thorns, a sun among moons, a queen among the concubines, creeping gracefully across the ballroom floor to join me. Her smell of fresh roses and sandalwood engulfed my senses. She was absolutely stunning. Our hands met, her hand on top, much to my surprize. We moved, in slow, calculated steps. One. Two. Three. Turn. These repetitive motions, as well as the slow, syncopated rhythm of the birds' song entranced me. I was the fool, and she my master. I felt she knew that. As we kept on, the spotlight illuminated us as if to varify our love. Ho ho! The Gods acknowledged our amor! We swung harder, as if to give an appropriate thanks to the Gods. Being alone with her was heaven. The sheer extacy of coming together had proven too much as her ambrosia lips frolicked with mine. Her body was of a Goddess, sweet as honey and nectar from a sugar fruit. Her hair of the finest silk, hand spun for me by the Gods. The pink waterfall ending around her neck, the tower of babel. Her eyes like a flock of flamingos, bathed in milk. Supple lips, red and succulent like the flesh of pomegrante. Her breasts, like honey-dipped apples in a orachard, ripe for the picking. Oh, how I yearn for days past! Once my days were filled with the bliss and vim of love, but now have been rendered bleak and devoid of life. She, my dear love, Amy, she is gone now. She was taken away from me in a bout of rage. I know for certain the Gods could not be responsible for this injustice to love itself, for the Gods rejoiced upon our union. No no! This is the work of another being, something much lower and vile as to want to destroy the boundaries between love and life itself. This is the work of Hades manifest, . Though he had been damned to the lowest layer in hell, his influence still lerks in my life like a stalking butler, who upon the finger rests. Open then the path to hell I must have, to get my Amy aloosed from the yokes and bondage of death.