To Young Artemis

Divine huntress,
in your chase of things wild
over the mountains of Kynthos
and of the world,
chase for fame, gold, greatness, glory
—overabundant to qualify for noble—
mistakenly you took me for a Titan’s son
and loaded on my shoulders
a million’s worth of expectations,
a globe’s fill of cumbrous dreams.

At daybreak
sweet the taste of your esteem for me,
your praise flow of honey,
delectable weight the jewel
on my forehead
of your aspirations, trust, hopes.

At noon
The cargo on my shoulders heavy felt;
in doubt the clouds, a skeptic sun,
tears in vain searching for my eyes’ ponds
—your dazzle had earlier flooded, saturated,
and taught to yield your reflections only.

At sunset
we had reached the forest’s end:
the dense woods’ foliage now behind
—that entertained so many shadows—
the cool and clear lake now ahead
my image to return to me, my truth restore.

At dusk
the bundle of your world down I set
and from your lure I walked away,
a lighter Atlas, one free man,
like the moon uncarried.

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