Lust's Echoes

 In ancient lands where shadows play,

A tale unfolds of night and day,

Of lustful hearts and cruel desires,

Burning bright like tempest fires. 

In cities fair, where breezes hum,

A gathering of men would come,

With eyes like hawks and whispered schemes,

Chasing fleeting, restless dreams. 

I see. Don’t you see?

These men of passion, bold and proud,

Found solace in a yearning crowd,

Yet deep within their hearts did swell,

A hunger forged from lust’s cruel spell. 

They sought the beauty in each face,

A fleeting glance, a soft embrace,

But what they craved was fierce and wild,

To claim the heart of every child. 

I see. Don’t you see?

From marble temples, echoes rang,

Of promises that sweetly sang,

Yet in the darkness, truth was bare,

For love was lost in longing’s snare. 

I see. Don’t you see?

With silken threads, they wove their games,

Entwined in dreams that bore no names,

But shadows lurked where none could see,

The price of love — a shattered plea. 

Their laughter echoed through the night,

Yet in their souls, a waning light,

For every heart they sought to win,

They left a trail of woe and sin. 

In secret spaces, whispers grew,

Of broken vows and hearts anew,

But still they danced, these men of lust,

With fleeting joy and fleeting trust. 

I see. Don’t you see?

Through feasts and revels rich with cheer,

Their obsessions masked their latent fear,

For deep within their carnal chase,

They lost the warmth of love's embrace. 

The moon it shone on nights bereft,

Of innocence, their hearts were cleft,

While silvery beams, like ghostly hands,

Lamented dreams in shifting sands. 

And in the morn, as dawn awoke,

With colors rich, the silence broke,

Yet echoes of their deeds remained,

In whispered stories, love was tamed. 

They chased the phantoms of the night,

But found no solace, no true light,

For lust, a fire that burns so fast,

Leaves naught but ashes of the past. 

I see. Don’t you see?

O cruel obsession, bane of fate,

That leads the hearts to tempt the slate,

In search of pleasure, power, or might,

They lost the essence of true light. 

So heed this tale of lustful men,

For every triumph hides a pen,

That writes the stories of their fall,

In shadows deep, they heed the call. 

In love’s pure pursuit, seek wisdom's grace,

For true connection time cannot erase,

Let passions guide with gentle hand,

To forge a bond, not built on sand. 

For in the end, it’s love we seek,

A tender bond, both strong and meek,

Beyond desire, through trials shared,

Where hearts entwine, and souls are bared. 

So let us learn from tales of yore,

In passions vast, there lies much more,

Than fleeting lust or cruel demands,

For love endures, where trust withstands.