The Slaying of the Monster


He's come for me, o'er swell and tide
My foolish thoughts and empty pride
I thought no gallant knight should ride
Into that darkness in my house

No knight, indeed
Nor pristine steed
But he of thought and love and need
Shall face the darkness in my house

Not man, nor servant, nor squire there
Will come alone for beauty fair
To part that lovely, lonely hair
He cares not for the darkness in my house.

I cannot see his calloused hands
So aptly framing swollen bands
Of hate and disgust and other lands
I cannot see through the darkness in my house

She snarls and snaps and cruelly bares
Those teeth of hers that shred those stares
Of all the knights upon their mares
Who weakly ran from the darkness in my house.

I can not bear his kindness well
My heart ne'er stops it's growing swell
No heaven nor earth nor burning hell
Can ever erase the hope that's in my house

The monster wails in sad lament
He watches most sweetly as I, still bent
Upon that darkness so mired and spent
To chase that monster from the house

He is no man, nor saintly soul
But Eros indeed, who asks no toll
Except that I return from where I stole
To kill and kill that wretched thing.

Awake at last, I take his hand
That dark, dark fog of beast and man
Has come and gone, through time and sand
I, Psyche, have killed the monster in my house.

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