Entwined hands, entwined ashes.
Did you see him when you died?
Did you regret your anguished tantrum?
Fighting for pride, killing for love.
Together in death, the fighting is over.
Do you look at how we’ve changed?
Do you see it’s different now?
Not quite better, but not the same.
Somewhere, men walk hand in hand.
Don’t you see they’re equals now?
Don’t you think that partners have strength?
The world is growing around them.
Kindred souls can walk together.
Do you know they both have pride?
Don’t you see that pride is good?
You fought for pride. How did you die?
Entwined ashes, entwined hands.
Do you wish you’d fought together?
You two alone, as you had said?
Did you cry when you left Pelion?
Did you hold him in your tent?
Were you steadied by his breath?
Did you scorn your wretched hubris?
Did you strain from Hector’s weight?
Did you hold the empty air?
Did you covet Paris’ arrow?
Were you grateful for your heel?
Did you long to see his face?
Do you wish it all was different?
Do you wish you walked today?
Can you imagine a life of peace?
A life where you’d grow old with him?
Do you crave a new epithet?
Fighting for pride, dying for love.