I don't write the poetry

It writes itself persistently

Erato's lust takes over me

Calling sweet and willfully

I am not in quest of love

It finds me on its own sweet love

For Aphrodite's fearless of

Seizing what she's lacking of

I do not write my history

Where blown has been my destiny

Fate drives me on unmercifully

Whips my soul relentlessly

And the only freedom left for shame

Is to accept mortality

Or not accepting still to be

Gaia's fodder whence I came