Hemlock cup, poison’d chalice, Prometheus Bound. And an addled spider

Very delightful ‘conversations’ recently with a special someone from the wonder years.

After all these years, she still likes my writing…
:)

Of ‘resonating echoes from the past’ and ‘the gossamer stuff of dreams’,
of Socrates and hemlock cups and poison’d chalices,
of irritating gadflies and addled spiders…

:) At risk of being accused of ‘doth protest too much’, in its original medieval meaning or modern misunderstood artifice, I humbly demur…
Either way, methinks there is actually danger in a too fevered imagination unable to restrain itself, deliriously spinning an ethereal world of words thoughts dreams, Unbounded.
Yes, some delight may be had of a bawdy bard of dreamworlds; but alas, the pied piper of Dreams plays and builds only an ephemeral world which cannot lasts…and in the end, what awaits such Dreamers can only be the anguished poison’d chalice.
So, ere I go, let me raise my hemlock cup and propose a toast:
to gadflies and spiders, to gods and heroes…for all we are at the end, are Prometheus Bound.

Am happy…
a happy little addled spider.

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