Torches leant in to hear his pleas.
Kerberos sat at attention, but his ears were bent towards the strange man with the lyre,
Orpheus whose voice serenaded rocks and streams,
Which glowed like a stream of sunlight from his lungs.

Haides listened intently to the boy’s gasps and prayers,
He learnt how he loved as deeply as the Underworld itself,
And would carve hearts into his own body to get joyous Eurydice back into his arms.
He, the King, wept diamonds as his thoughts drifted to his dearly belovéd Persephone.
Pomegranate seeds, six of the garnet beads, kept him from such a miserable fate as the son of a muse that stood before him.

Persephone held the strong youth in her eyes,
And yes, she saw what she heard in his forlorn song, so melancholic and minor.
His heart was falling, and it would shatter under anymore strain.
She agreed silently with her husband in one quick moment,
Just as Kerberos howled from the gate.

Orpheus had mastered sharing his grievance with the King of the dead and the Iron Queen.
What a victory.
What a shame it ended in further heartbreak.