Constructed absentmindedly in haste. Like glued up fragmentations of jelly, You are given no instructions of life. A child’s discombobulated drawing Discarded and abandoned by God’s will. Left to float and linger through endless time, In the clasp of the untamable seas.
Medusa, o beautiful Medusa, Shackled in the vast realm of Poseidon. The wrath of your sharp, penetrating sting May never strike or jab their cursing flesh. Though you are frozen in desolate time, Tentacles amass frostbite from bitter cold, Your will of steel falters without a mind. Your brain, a memento of the warm past, Numbed and nullified by divine decree. The waves have shaped your uneven verses, Your sense dissolved alongside your essence.
Diminished as a wandering relic, Adrift in the background of advancing waves. You will forever be by your lonesome, Accompanied by the echoes of life, While the many passionate pulses thump Through the heart of the animate water. And the myriad of the bottomless sea Intertwine to create majestic scenes. Colourful fish shift around with quick pace. Guarded by rough corals built as their palace.
While you are jelly-”fish,” name and title, The fishes are not your kindred spirits. Your soft colour, diluted by ocean tides Stripping you to your core, An unused blank canvas, embellished with no brushstrokes. Now, only remnants of the past remain From your once tall palace of grandeur As you watch fate steal this vibrant abode, Room by room, rubble by rubble, speck by speck. These fish are blind to your circumstances, They only see your deadly tentacles And your stinging nematocysts, Like venomous snakes on your once tamed hair. They declare you as a “ruthless monster”, Through their selfish and wicked glares.
Though you are the pinnacle of beauty, The soft glass ornament of the ocean, You are chained to immortality’s weight, Doomed to be a powerless spectator. Ensnared jellyfish in the boundless seas, Caught amidst a primordial trap. Kidnapped by the many unrelenting waves, Undulating tides push you in everlasting rotation. Alive, Yet with no instance of warm crimson blood or fleeting vitality. Medusa, Medusa, now I must know: Does resilience consume your endless plight, Or is it your fear that holds you captive?