The Lyre of Orpheus

I know where the lyre lays.

If you listen, you can hear it:

those frayed strings

still echoing the tune of lovers

lost in shadows and light.

It lays in the roots of dancing trees

and rests innocently in the grass

next to a sinister snake.

Quiet! You can hear it in the cadence

of tears beating softly into the dirt.

It lays in the heartbeats of those

driven to the depths for love.

It lays in the souls of those

that might dare to charm Cerberus

or attempt to soften the heart of Hades.

It lays in silent footsteps,

in the doubt and the fear

and the desperation, of soulmates

ascending into uncertainty.

And I know why Orpheus looked back.

I know where the lyre lays,

still echoing the tune of lovers

lost in shadows and light.

And my Eurydice, oh my Eurydice...

she calls for me there.