The Fall Of The Titans Poem by Mark Heathcote

If she fastened down her tears with her eyelids closed
dazzled by the sun, the moon, a dream on the horizon,
would you be there when they open composed?
Made of starlight - would you be her Titan?

Her protector, her Kronos: Sire, do not devourer me?
Instead, let me also rest in the 'Isles-of-the-Blessed.'
And there wake sire beside your giant torso invitee
shielded and protected, in your heart I-shall nest.

Put on wings and fly above the rain clouds
and tears will no longer dampen my heart quest.
Perched-in-these heavenly gyres like wild fowls:
Sire, see to my need to join others I dispossessed.