Light of Agate (PART VI)

Days passed and Cupid couldn’t stay away anymore from his beloved Psyche. He had to see her, he had to feed his sorrow. So one night, he flown to the palace, but couldn’t find Psyche in her bed. Instead, he sees her in the garden where she had been waiting every night since she first saw the golden boy of godlike beauty, fairish curly hair and see depth eyes lighted by the Light of Agate. When she felt his presence, she lifts Light of Agate hoping to see him once more. He wants to run again, but she implores him to stay. Now, powerless to resist her call, he stops and thus finally is brought to light. Psyche approaches him without reluctance although she didn’t know who he is. She is suddenly amazed by her own fearlessness, so she blushes of shame. – Who are you? – she asks, and he can say to her only the gods honest truth: – I am a god. – He is at that moment more astounded by that then she is, more afraid what those words could mean. But Light of Agate stands between them, so not only their faces, but their souls are alight too, and nothing can remain hidden. As much as he is an old god, a rascal bringing sorrow and elation, mixed in a nectar of poisonous nature, he is too worthy and craving for same love, same sorrow and elation he brought to others. That old mountain demon is also a young being in need of love, as we are all, men and gods the same under the Light of Agate. And Psyche, noble and gentle, she that merits happiness more than any other yet true happiness will not know before she sees her image in an eye of a beloved. Lust and desire she needs to be whole, as the sea is not only peaceful and blue but also stormy and wavy; it is its nature. We can become aware of its beauty only when we know it for what it is. We are not benevolent if we don’t know we can be selfish; we cannot be good until we appreciate bad. And we cannot love without desire and grief, as it is the nature of love. And in this, opposites that are the same, Light of Agate brought together two souls. Cupid knew real love, and Psyche knew fiery passion.

The prophecy came true. In that first kiss that night, words of the oracle found their home. Psyche fell in love with a cruel demon, one that many souls tortured beyond belief. And each new touch and sigh opened a new world for both Psyche and Cupid. She was showing him about kindness, and he awakened her sensuality. Each night Cupid came, his quandary was long forgotten. When night silence the world, and sleep falls on the palace, Psyche took her little god to her bed. But when they wished to have days together as well, the time has come for Psyche to leave her father nest and follow Cupid to his halls in the high mountain.

Parting with her father was hard. His dearest, she who reminded him of her mother the most, went farthest of all, to mountains with a demon-god. He will never see her, the king knew. Her children will not hop around his feet and their laughter will not chime around the palace. But the king saw that his Psyche, although sadden by good-byes they had to say, was blessed and happy, and he clamped down his sorrow.

The king remembered now the words of the oracle, and the injustice he did to her. So he decided to find her and ask for forgiveness. But his last daughter leaving his home brought age to his body, and he succumbed to weakness, so he had to be carried in a palanquin from one place to another. Although he hoped for death, the king prevailed in his sad existence so he can find the old woman he once did wrong. He found her finally after grave challenges, sitting in front of the same hut Psyche saw her long ago. Although old and feeble, the king stood up to his feet with great difficulty, and then with even more effort, he kneeled before the oracle begging for forgiveness, like she was the king and he was the subject. He told her how her prophecy came true and that he had to live with that, at least, these short moments he still had in this world. But the oracle looked deep into his eyes, and just smiled: – Psyche is happy now, don’t take no worries to your journey you are about to embark on, good king. To the Light of Agate, you should be thankful and praise the gods you remembered words that came out of my mouth just in the nick of time. And about the lashes, forget that. If those few scars have been the most painful suffering I had to endure because of my prophecies, my life would have been happier than yours. But wait one moment, my king, don’t go. For you too I have a gift. – And she lightly jumped up like a frog and disappeared in her cabin. When she returned, her hands were empty, and the king was already on the ferryman’s boat, sailing over river Styx, to the other shore were his mate awaited him. His time has come.

Psyche found her place amongst the gods in due course. Jove himself, captivated by her beauty, made her immortal. And Cupid found his place amongst men. The love he brought to them was often filled with sorrow, as that is the nature of love, but he knew love better now, so he delivered his arrows with more gentleness, making people in love closer to gods than ever before. Psyche and Cupid are together even now. If Psyche springs to Cupid a smile, blissful love blossoms everywhere. But if she gets angry, or bad dreams wakes her at night, or if she remembers all she left behind when climbing the mountain with her demon, her mother, father, sisters, all long gone, or if she feels lonely among the gods, loves are hard and sad. Yet, she hates rue hearts, so she tries to hide her own ache from Cupid. But those two cannot hide anything from each other, as Light of Agate always shines in their home, and while its glow is soft, every darkness, even the deepest, it can lit.

The myth about Psyche and Cupid is one of the most present stories in arts.
Many paintings and sculptures had for an inspiration this tale from ancient times
described first in Metamorphoses.
This version, however, is a creative work of our author, and presented to visitors of our site
as a preview of the book that will be published during this year.
All copyright is held by the author, Wolfgang Whael

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