One writer had wondered, what was it like to capture a goddess in human form? Was she like carved marble, cold and unyielding?
Was she soft and vulnerable like human flesh? Would she cry out like a child beneath him? Her golden hair disheveled and her divine state ruined.
She belonged to him, his Calliope. She was his very own goddess, his eternal muse. She was the reason for his success, his fame, his plays, his books that would go down in history.
Only when the Dream Lord took her away, the writer once again remembered the true taste of despair.
(Inspired by Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, The brief story of Calliope in his graphic novel Fables and Reflections)
