The silky, luminescent pool shimmers brightly.

She leans to greet the water, her fingertips brushing lightly.

Wrapping her abundant midnight robes around her,

racked by searing pain, her vision a blur.

Amidst the seeming blindness comes clarity.

A vision of truth, and in this comes disparity.

She is a mortal and yet she is not merely so.

She oversees the harvest and blesses the fields that they plough.

'Tis her wretched destiny, her curse, her loathsome fate.

'Tis her honor, her gift, an undeniable bait.

To her knees she falls, soiling her drapes.

Perpetually controlled, perpetually worshipped, perpetually raped.

A/N: I was thinking that this storyline would make a good series, and so I propose this as the prologue. I'm venturing out into rhyming and storytelling through poetry…tell me what you think about my attempt and whether the story would interest you…That's if anyone reads this at all…Thanks!!