Published on: 2/5/2014
The Death of Pan
As I was sailing on a starlit sea
a voice cried out across the waves to me.
A grieving, golden voice, wine-wracked and broken.
I saw no ship, and knew a god had spoken.
It spoke but once, and this is all it said:
"At Palodes, cry out 'Great Pan is dead.'"
We came to Palodes at break of day
and sailed into a darkly-wooded bay.
Who dares defy the gods? And so I spoke
though all that I could see was ash and oak
but from those woods came wailings of despair
of grief too great for human heart to bear.
One man went mad, another fell down dead
and we who lived took up the oars and fled.