Cassandra's Song

Why do they all speak at once, like a storm in the night,
And no drink in this world can ever silence their plight?
Why does reason, so sharp, only feed hope’s deceit,
While judgments of men make the weak bow at its feet?

The vision may stay, though hope’s poisoned and weak,
A god’s gift, they say—but the price was too steep,
The favor of the eternal always comes with a fee:
Calamity for them, a doom far deeper for me.

What a burden to know, and never to show,
If my words find their hearts—blocked from flow,
Cold as ice, their reason gets blowzed.
My visions dissolve where their minds are closed.

So I watch the window frame the distant tide,
The ships like leaves where the gulls glide,
The smoke from fires drift and fade away,
And as I watch, the light decays to gray.

They wanted a seer, not a voice so clear
It cut through their lies like a spear.
No soft words, no flattery—just the weight
Of the truth they’d chain, but could not abate.

Why should I know when the end is fixed,
When all they’ll hear is the luck they’ve picked?
I’m locked away, called mad for the crime
Of saying their choices aren’t theirs to sign.

We can guide the lava’s burning stream,
But never halt the mountain’s scream.
We can ride the waves as they climb,
Yet never change the flood’s set time

I saw them all fall for the prize they desired,
Drowned in their hunt, by their hopes inspired.
They chased the golden Fleece, the gods had spun
Their ruin’s thread—yet I was the one

Who saw the pattern woven in every act,
The truth already there, no god could retract.
Not as a seer, but as the earth must know
The roots of the tree before it can grow.

Apollo dealt the sight, but not the grace,
A truth too heavy for my embrace.
Yet in the dark, his greed laid bare,
I found the light was always there. 

My brother’s words were honeyed, smooth, and bright,
His life dissolved like mist in morning light.
But I, who saw the path fate had set,
Made meaning from it—and live there yet.

(Summer 2025)

The Dragon Revives 

In the midst of nine worlds, its secret keeps, 

Surrounded by seas, where the cosmos sleeps. 

A dragon lies at the root of all, it seems, 

As twelve sounds resound in the realm of dreams. 

With every four beats, it stirs from its slumber, 

A timeless force that no mortal can encumber. 

In the heart of nine worlds, its power thrives, 

As twelve sounds dance, where the dragon revives. 

Credits: Text and Images by Tabea Hirzel 

Music Evolution by Benjamin Tissot via Bensound

The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Georges Nijs

open sheet music 

Smoothly spinning round by round, the dainty
sound propels her nimble ever faster
on her toe tip, dances almost fainty;
swirling silk and skin of alabaster.

Then revolving in a vortex nearing
heaven, desperate hope for reaching the light,
when she tosses down on the gateway hearing
seven ditties in speaking: God of the night

will not let you stay. The land of beauty
is not for the living. Yet on grassland
thousand flowers throbbing in a fluty
wait for dancers colouring the world unbanned.

There is no escape. Death is certain.
Bring the golden cup and lift the curtain.

(On the The Twelve Dancing Princesses by Alexander Afanasyev, Samhain 2021)

My silence within you

 by Tabea Hirzel

It is my silence within you

I'm searching for.

Some words are like a shield 

to protect thoughts and thighs 

but in your presence 

this shield becomes a boat

on which I can cross 

the river to your eyes.

And deep inside your soul

I find my silence.

It is my silence I seek 

in the words You speak

the necessary and not more

and yet, 

you dominate 

from the start.

It is my silence within you

from which you listen 

and you hear

the art 

of painting memories 

in the offing.

And it is this music

that sounds 

and resounds 

now and here in my ear

which lets me doffing

the veil to your heart.

(23/12/2020 - Catching the spirit.)

A dream long dreamed

 by Tabea Hirzel

We all have dreams

long forgotten

dreams of what 

we wished we had

we could have been become

dreams of what 

we could have done

and yet

from all the thousand options

we chose 

just this one.

We all have dreams

dreams of a future

that turn into fears 

the older we become

and in all those dreams

we paint with delicacy

an alternative version

of this dream

long gone.

To recover 

what has not completed 

what has not been realized 

until now

to recover who we were 

when we were younger 

who we were

who we are

and will be 

forever now.

One part inside me

is not here

and I find it in you

if I want it back

you will not be there

and I will miss 

the tension

between I and you.

(21/10/2020 - In memory of a unique moment beyond time.)

Desire unfulfilled

by Tabea Hirzel

Desire 

yet unfulfilled

not telling 

the unspoken.

a taunting chain.

Playful Sunrays or It’s All Words

2001.

In her office sits the ancient book,
The chemical codes he’s come to “look”—
Once, then twice, he’s back again,
Lost his memory? Or just a friend?
He leaves a line, a clever spark,
And she reads his notes with a growing heart,
Unaware, but her days feel bright,
She laughs at his words, his wit feels right.

Then comes the lunch, nothing strange,
Two traders out for a small exchange.
He takes her under the bridge’s hold,
Where oysters glisten, and champagne is cold.
They talk and tease, a delicate dare,
And play with words, sweet air they share.
A smile, a sip, the world’s in rhyme,
And she finds herself enjoying the time.

Back to work, but there he halts,
A gentle hand, her step he faults.
“May I?” he asks, his gaze held true,
She nods, breath quick, and the moment grew.
His kiss like a knight’s, soft and sure,
A spark rising from her core,
But business calls; the day’s not done,
“Next time,” he grins, “somewhere fun.”

She offers a place, somewhere new,
The solarium, where the sun spills through.
Rooms that glow, no walls in between,
It’s there they’ll meet, both unseen.

Days pass—then, sudden pain,
She learns he’s bound by a wedding chain.
A letter sent, a line to make him pause,
But she’s already caught in his cause.

The solarium shines, her skin turns gold,
She waits, she’s warm, her breath controlled.
He’s nervous, bare, with a boyish blush,
She lies there slender, cool in hush.
Her body pale, dark hair, blue eyes,
Wrinkles soft ‘round her navel’s prize.
He’s charmed, he’s lost in her display,
And comes too soon, before the play.

No worry, no shame, she laughs it off,
“Some beauty’s too much,” she gives a scoff.
A few days later, a parcel blooms,
An orchid, wit, his pride consumes.

Now, he struts, the words pour out,
He boasts to others, wields his clout.
But she loved the lines, the game they’d played,
Not the act, the touch, or what he’d displayed.
All words, all show, that’s all she’d sought,
While he chases fame, in silence she’s caught.

And the sun still shines on those playful words,
In echoes soft, it’s all she heard.

Cleaning my waters

(The pool cleaner, 2000)

Scene: She watches from the terrace, a bored smile under her dark curls as he kneels by the pool, fair and strong beneath the Spanish sun. Green eyes glinting as he stirs the water with precision.
 

Her:
"Mmm, that water's clearer than my conscience, fair boy.
You always work like this? In silence, in sweat?"
 

Him:
"Silence serves me, señora,
the quiet water’s my friend.
Chemistry and balance, that’s the game.
But here—take my number, should trouble come.*
Emergencies, you know, or…something else."
 

Her:
“Emergency indeed.”
 

(She pockets the number with a sly tilt of her head.)
Later that evening, the call goes through just before the pool shop closes.
 

Her:
"Is the pool well? Of course, it is.
But I need… let’s call it a guide.
Show me these parts, if you’ve got the time."
 

Him:
"The parts, señora? I’m not much of a tour guide.
The hours find me here or there, not much else."
 

Her:
"Tour guides are for tourists.
I want quiet, hidden, a place we can breathe.
Does that suit you, or should I call some other caballero?"
 

Him:
"Quiet? I know that, a place in the huertas.
We’ll stop for something...for the night."
He picks her up in the well-worn furgoneta, a dusty charm, a rumble beneath her. At the petrol station, they buy "just in case." She brushes his hand with her fingers as she hands him coins.
 

Her:
"The dunes call us tonight, don’t you feel it?
The stars, the sea whispering close?"
 

Him:
"The dunes are cool by the water, secret and still.
Let’s find a place, where the sand holds us both."
 

They park near the huertas, step out into the soft night, where jasmine lingers and citrus trees sway in a breeze that speaks of salt. They lie close, stone beneath them, kissing deep, her neck arched, a hand on his cheek.
 

Her:
"Ah, but these stones, they know no mercy,
hard as the desert, fair boy."
 

Him:
"Then the sand, near the water, soft beneath our hands.
Come, follow the moon with me."
 

They find a spot near the water’s edge, and the sand gives way beneath them. Skin against skin, the night deepens, stars above their only witnesses.
 

Her:
"Young and strong—you keep this rhythm well.
Legion-trained, they must have taught you something there."
 

Him:
"Endurance, señora.
I once starved in Sierra Nevada, but thirst was the worst.
I’d never go thirsty now, not with you here."
 

Her:
"A lost soul, now found in a furgoneta trunk,
who’d have thought the legion would lead you here?"
 

They laugh, a shared breath, tangled and warm in the maletero. Her fingers twist in his hair, his hands roam, and the intensity rises.
 

Him:
"Turn for me—
I want all of you, señora."
 

Her:
She arches, bares herself to the moonlight, supple and free.
"This, fair boy? I didn’t know soldiers could be so bold."
 

Him:
"For you, I’ll be anything, anywhere.
Lost, found, the night’s ours."
 

They move, shift, bodies entwined in the close air, neither growing tired, no end in sight. She wonders, a playful whisper as the dawn begins to blush.
 

Her:
"What do they teach you in the legion, fair boy?
Strength, sure…but such stamina?"
 

Him:
"More than just strength, señora,
It’s the will to keep going, to endure.
And with you, I endure well."
 

As dawn’s light spills over the horizon, they finally rest, two souls, strangers no longer, breathing as one.