For the Love of Myth
by Michael Doyle

Walking out past our prints in the Indiana snow,
My youngest confesses that it's hard to let it go.
Greek myths have an existential edge, so inevitable
Creative minds find themselves immensely incapable

Of letting go, the stories touch her young soul
As they come down to the interplay of control.
Her playful glare snipes at me when I say it's mythology.
She prefers to see it as a vibrant cosmology. 

She finds herself conflicted with riveted attention
Struggling with fate and control's twisted tension.
As the gods play games with human vulnerability,
Her belief in free will clashes with that ability.

Too many frozen words are not a good sign.
Her brow wrinkles as I dismiss the divine.
I tell her the gods were always up to inequity,
The reply is that's how it was in antiquity.

It's fascinating to watch her mind openly engage
With thoughts that alternate between feeling rage
And the way these ancient tales eloquently unravel
Yet, they remain through the centuries - well-traveled.

Self-indulgent caprice makes for such a tangled mess.
That's my perception, I tell her as I readily confess.
The stories of heroes played for fools in adventure
Is as close as my heart and soul could ever indenture

To work passionately on tales that lacked any real truth,
I had discovered this early on while a wild-eyed youth.
Certain that my will would have pained the gods more,
She laughs, and I know that another day we have more to explore.

(c) January 12, 2026   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved