Chapter 1: Concrete Poems on the theft of Euterpe’s Elixir
- INTRODUCTION: THE FALL OF BALANCE
Before the Halls of Marble cracked,
before the muses wept ink into the veins of the Academy,
there was harmony.
The gods whispered inspiration through gilded corridors,
and the students drank deeply of creation’s endless well.
But one among them—Professor Moros—grew restless.
He saw not a gift but a shackle,
not a blessing but a barrier.
Why should creativity bow to unseen hands?
Why must art remain a vessel for divinity when it could be more?
In the deep hours, beneath the stone vaults of the Library
accessible only through a hidden stairwell in the Letterpress Lab
he ventured.
(seeking the secret)
He traced the forgotten sigil. He broke the seal.
And thus, the world began to unravel.
- ASCENSION: (THE HORRORS OF THE THIEF BEGIN) Δ
there is an idea born into man
which becomes myth
Ω
which becomes legend
∞
— He descends —
the staircase {unbuilt}
the air thickening
the case against him builds
( the door ahead)
( the void beyond )
« the elixir sings »
♬
✇ ψ
it sings
it
( wails )
it wails
—> TOO LOUD TOO LOUD TOO LOUD « THE INK EVERYWHERE BLEEDS BACKWARD »*𝛑*« the gods cannot follow »
cannot
(will not)
dare not
. . .
( the numbers fracture )
( the song unwinds )
( the end begins ) - THE KEY TURNED IN THE LOCK
(11) Ω— 9 —
|||
||| The door stood still
||| until he whispered the name
— + + —
𝜑
(7)
Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ
𝛀
𝛀 (No mortal should know it)
𝛀 [a deep forgotten sigil]
𝛀 The word older than breath
𝛀
𝛀 ⊘ The sign that unbinds
𝛀
𝛀 ⊖ The name that unlocks
𝛀
𝛀 ⊗ The word that should have stayed buried
𝛀
(5)
Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ
— 3 —
|||
||| The door did not creak.
||| It did not hesitate.
— 1 —
Ω - THE CHALICE UPON THE ALTAR
(𝛥)
(➶ ❁)
( ｡˚ ✧)
(✧*.｡✰)
(⊗ ⊗ )
(☆ *.☽ )
| |
| GOLD |
|TOO MUCH |
|TOO BRIGHT |
| |
| a word |
\ a song /
\ a color /
\ /
\ a /
\curse/
\ /
\ /
*
* *
* *
* *- *
- *
- *
- *
- *
*CREATIVITY ***
*SLIPS * - AWAY
- FROM
- **** *
- THE *
- GODS *
- *
- *
** FOREVER* *
- communion of the elixir (He drinks the cup empty)
he drowns in the well gold turns s=i=l=e=n=t +echoes spiral (outward inward both neither)Δ – Ω = ✰☽
the muses (unwoven) all power slips through his fingers
||||| ||||| |||||
(a vessel unmade)
(a mouth unmoored)
(a name unwritten)
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ - 6. 6.THE THREAD UNMAKING (⊘, ⊖, ⊗, ⊞)
𝛥 𝛴
(crack) 𝛀 𝜑
the loom breaks
⊘ ⊖ ⊗
— 3 —
threads ( u n r a v e l )
6
words ( c o r r o d e )
– 𝜙 –
9 shadows out
𝝨
Ω ( a single thread remains ) | | (they pull) | (they pull) | | | (the loom does not protest) | |
Ω ( but the price is ) | | everything | | a name erased | | a god unmade | |
Ω ( the tapestry flutters once ) ( and then— ) | |
⊗ ⊖ ⊘
time
folds
(again)
(again)
(again)
(thunder breaks in the distant ) _
Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
He is the artist now
He is the ruin now
[ He is the fates now ]
- THE SKY SHATTERS Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
➶ ❁ ｡˚ ✧✧.｡✰ ☆ .☽(THE VEIL) (TEARS) (THE FABRIC) (SPLITS) (THE TIDES) (REVERSE) (THE GODS).☽ ✧ (LOOK AWAY)
*➶ ❁ ｡˚ ✧☆ ★ *.☽* ✮ ★ ☆✧*.｡✰ ☆ *.☽*
Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
THE PAINTINGS BURN
THE POETS FORGET [WORDS]
THE MUSIC TURNS STATIC
THE STARS LOSE THEIR
A HAND REACHES THROUGH
AND TAKES WHAT WAS
NEVER MEANT TO BE HELD
Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
(☆ .☽ ) (✧.｡✰)
( ｡˚ ✧)
(➶ ❁)
(𝛥)
Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
- the gods do what they can
⊗(the shears snip)| | (a thread snaps) | | ✺✳ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ✳✺ ( the Fates do not weep ) | | ( the gods reach ) | | ( trembling hands )( gasping breaths )
|**pull—** | **twist—** | **tie—** | </code></pre>────༺༻────
| ( but the knot does not take ) | ( a strand dangles, frayed, undone ) ︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵ **( the future will not forget this. )** - a last chance offering
(the gods demand)a voice a name a soul a thread unwoven (the students arise) “take us instead.” silence. the gods consider. the abyss opens. (something falls) (something is taken) (something is forever gone) the loom hums again fate breathes once more.
we will never know what was lost - EXORDIUM: THE TRIAL OF MOROS
When the fabric of fate was frayed, when inspiration ran dry as dust, when the fates turned their faces from the halls of creation—every part of the universe itself was compelled to act.
The Academy trembled. The stars, who had long stood as silent witnesses, murmured among themselves. The moon, pale and ever-watchful, waxed full with judgment. The rivers ceased their song. The wind carried no word across the firmament.
A crime had been committed.
A thief had risen beyond his appointed station.
Professor Moros, breaker of threads, desecrator of the muses, stood accused.
And so, the celestial court was called.
The scales of justice, hidden behind mortal sight, tilted into equilibrium. The constellations aligned, forming an unbroken sigil. From the depths of Tartarus to the peaks of Olympus, from the ink-stained archives of the Academy to the endless halls of marble, all were summoned.
• The Fates, weavers of destiny, arrived with their tapestry tattered,
• its edges burned where his hand had grasped at what was forbidden.
• The Muses, hollow-eyed and grieving,
• whispered accusations in tongues once brimming with poetry.
• The Gods, luminous and unyielding, bore witness with eyes that saw too much.
• The Students, the ones who had lost and fought and sacrificed, stood at the threshold, trembling but unbroken.
At the center of it all, bound in chains spun from dark disastrous stories and undone fates, stood Moros. The fallen professor who sought to rewrite the order of inspiration,
to steal the divine gift.
The question now remained—
Would the universe permit his existence?
Would the stars allow his name to be spoken again?
Would the act of creation, once defiled, be restored?
The trial began.
Chapter 2:
Courtroom Transcript – The Case of Stolen Elixir
Opening Statements:
The Honorable Justice Themis presiding over the Court of Creativity:
Ladies and gentlemen of the Academy,
In this hallowed court of creativity,
We gather to unveil a tale most daunting,
A saga wrought within the shadows haunting
of our sacred institution of artistic longing.
Professor Moros, a seeker in our midst,
In pursuit of an elixir’s whispered lore,
Broke an oath and tore open a sacred door,
losing our trust, forevermore.
The elixir, a potion with a mystic hue,
Hid in the sacred halls where inspiration grew,
Promising true artistry, yet leaving shadows in its wake,
Became his cursed quest leaving our very balance at stake.
Through witnesses and words, truths we shall glean,
In the court of creativity
once we reach justice
we may convene.
Opening statements by
The Prosecution team of Mount Olympus:
Your honor,
We stand here today to bring forth evidence,
Against professor Moros, who, driven by an insatiable quest for power, plotted to locate the forbidden Elixir of Euterpe within the sacred halls of the Academy, exercised esoteric dark arts to open the seal locking the chamber away for our protection, and then partook of the forbidden substance.
Opening Statements by
The Defense team for Professor Moros:
Your honor,
bear witness not just to the crime, but to the wound;
a wound that bleeds ink and oil, verse and vision,
the silent suffering of those who burn too brightly.
You call this professor a thief, yet was he not a surgeon, reaching into the frayed loom of fate where the muses at times turn cruel,
where the gift of creation twisted into a slow unraveling in the minds of humans?
Too many have fallen— Van Gogh by his own trembling hand, Plath by the hush of the gaslight, Rothko bleeding into the floor, Woolf wading into the river’s cold embrace, Arbus lost behind the camera’s final flash, Hemingway with a shotgun’s last punctuation, Cobain with the echo of his own refrain, Gorky hanging between ruin and memory, Francesca Woodman vanishing mid-frame—brilliance turned to dust, the gift of creation twisted into an unbearable weight.
Professor Moros did not steal out of greed, but out of desperation, to patch the gaping hole where genius becomes grief, where inspiration devours instead of ignites.
He saw the abyss yawning at the feet of his students, and in defiance of the gods, he reached for the only cure. Do not call this heresy—call it an act of love.”
The Honorable Justice Themis:
Thank you both.
Please bring forward the Witnesses.
Witness One: The Painter – Sofia
“I painted in the sanctum of color until my fingers blistered, until the smell of turpentine clung to my skin like a second soul. My own reflection vanished behind the canvases—I was only the hands that worked, the eyes that saw, the mind that unraveled. I tried to tell my professors, the muses, the gods, but they only called it unbridled passion. But Moros—he took the brush from my shaking fingers and made me step back. He made me see how much of myself I had already lost. He stayed with me in the empty studio, washed the paint from my hands when I was too weak to do it myself, he sighed, ‘If only we had the elixir, you could create without becoming a sacrifice.’”
Witness Two: The Musician – Linus
“The music wouldn’t stop. It rattled the walls of the grand hall and inside my ribs and scraped against my skull and played behind my eyes even when my hands were too raw to bring forth another note. My body broke trying to keep up, my mind cracked under the weight of every unfinished melody. Moros found me in the studio of noise one night, shaking, my fingers bleeding into the ivory and strings, and he took my hands in his own. He whispered that music was meant to heal, not harm, that the gods were cruel to let it consume me. And then, with sorrow in his voice, he said, ‘If only we had the elixir, I could quiet the storm inside of you.'”
Witness Three: The Poet – Phoebe
“The words never let me rest. They came in torrents, in whispers, in screams, until I couldn’t hear my own thoughts—only the verses, the relentless verses, demanding more, always more. When Moros found me in the translator’s study I was afraid I’d write myself into oblivion, he didn’t tell me to suffer for my art—he sat beside me in the candlelight and helped me find silence between the lines. He brewed me bitter teas, pressed cool cloths to my fevered skin, and told me, ‘If only we had the elixir, child, the muses would not demand so much of you.'”
The Honorable Justice Themis:
Thank you to the brave students for testifying.
May your creativity flow ever effortlessly,
and never be a detriment to your health and your sanity.
Please bring forward the Expert Testimonies.
First Expert: The Graphoanalysis Expert
“I examined the professor’s handwriting in the calligrapher’s tower over the past two years, and the shift is undeniable—his once meticulous script grew erratic, frantic, as though he were writing against time itself. His final entries before the theft tremble with desperation, the ink pressed so hard into the parchment it nearly tore, as if he believed fate itself could be rewritten if only his hand were steady enough.”
Second Expert: The Cartomancer
“I read his cards with the gazing ball tarot underground in the hall of the gods the night before he vanished and I saw skyscrapers burning, bats hanging from the ceiling, and an omen of a poisoned weapon. The Tower, the Hanged Man, the Ten of Swords—ruin, sacrifice, and a pain too great to bear alone. He did not steal out of greed but out of fear, hoping to shift the cosmic design before another artist’s candle flickered out too soon.”
Third Expert: The Oracle Seer
“The stars whispered his sorrow before he ever spoke it aloud—I saw him standing at the loom of fate, tethered to the golden thread of the elixir, trembling as the Fates turned their hollow eyes upon him as he lost control. His crime was not hubris, but love, for he sought to mend in these students what even the gods had let unravel.”
The Honorable Justice Themis:
Thank you to wonderful experts for your testimony.
Please bring forward the Divine Patrons for their statements.
Statement One: Nyx, Goddess of Night
“In the shadows where mortal minds break, I watched him linger—his dreams were restless, tangled with the echoes of suffering artists who had fallen before him. He did not steal in malice, but in grief, hoping to carve a path through the darkness before another soul was lost to it.”
Statement Two: Apollo, God of Music
“I have seen countless artists kneel at my altar, begging for brilliance, for vision, for just one more masterpiece before they shatter under its weight—Moros saw what I refused to, that inspiration can become a curse. He sought not to defy me, but to undo the cruelty of the gift I so freely bestow.”
Statement Three: Clotho, Spinner of Fate
“I felt his hands tremble upon the loom, pulling at threads not his to touch, but his heart was not driven by greed—it was raw, aching, desperate to stop the pattern of suffering that has woven for centuries. He thought himself the mender of fate, but even I do not know if such a thing is capable.”
Statement Four: Aphrodite, Goddess of Love
“I have seen love in many forms—fierce, gentle, fleeting, eternal—but the love Moros holds for his students is unlike any I have witnessed. It is not the love of a teacher or a mentor, but of a protector, one who would bear the burden of their pain to shield them from the darkness that threatens to consume their spirits. Such devotion deserves more than punishment; it deserves a chance for renewal. I recommend the restoration of his mind and the healing of himself that has cracked beneath the weight of his own compassion.”
The Honorable Justice Themis:
Thank you Divine Patrons, may your power be an inspiration to all of the students who reside here at the Academy.
Please bring forward the closing statements.
Closing statements by
The Prosecution team of Mount Olympus:
“Professor Moros may have acted out of misguided love, but his theft disrupted the delicate balance of creation itself, threatening to unravel the very fabric of artistic inspiration. No matter his intentions, the law must hold, for without consequences, there is no order—and without order, the muses will fade into silence.”
Closing Statements by
The Defense team for Professor Moros:
“Professor Moros’ actions, though unlawful, were driven by a deep and unyielding desire to save those who suffer under the weight of their own brilliance. He sought not to defy the gods, but to heal the very brokenness they have allowed to flourish—and for this, he deserves not punishment, but compassion and the chance to restore what has been lost.”
Verdict as presented by the Honorable Judge Themis:
“While the law must stand firm, we must also recognize the depth of love and sacrifice that guided Professor Moros’ actions—his desire to heal, rather than harm, cannot be ignored. Out of love, we shall bend the law to give him a chance to restore and mend his fractured mind, committing him to the healing pools of the Water Nymphs’ Glade. However, his actions will not go without consequence—he shall no longer be allowed to teach or guide others, for even the brightest creators must learn that their gifts come with great responsibility. But I do recommend that he continue his pursuit of creativity and continue to tell his tale to the end of days or whence it becomes legend. Because creativity and art is something that should never be foregone and will always heal.”
chapter 3:
the academy installs sonnets
on three brass plaques
across the institution
to preserve the history
—
The Elixir’s Temptation
Euterpe’s First Sonnet
plaque installed
in the Letterpress Lab
In shadowed halls where muses weep,
Professor Moros sought a mystic brew,
The Elixir of Euterpe’s secrets hidden deep,
And his quest for power in darkened view.
Through ancient tomes and forbidden paths tread,
To find a potion that could wield the gods,
A brew to crown him, the darkened shadows were fed,
His ambition danced and the darkness nods.
Yet in the corridors of artistry,
The students sensed the threat of looming night,
Divine intervention became a symphony,
As gods and pupils joined a judicial fight.
Euterpe’s elixir and a sirens’ call,
Became shadows encroaching, as students stood against it all.
Divine Justice Against The Theft
Euterpe’s Second Sonnet
plaque installed
at the entrance to the Library
in the Poet’s Courtyard.
Guided by visions, the students arose,
A trio gifted within the gods’ embrace,
Judge Themis’ wisdom with strategy flows,
And Aphrodite’s love lending divine grace.
With verses spun the seer spoke,
Of prophecies and shadows becoming intertwined,
The story’s brush was a canvas to invoke,
and thus the truth became aligned.
Apollo with music wove sonic strands,
A melody entwined with divine might,
In chorus gods and students took their stands,
To redeem Moros’ quest and to send shadows taking flight.
In unity, they faced the scales of justice near,
Honest intention was in this case a motive clear.
Justice Restores Honest Artistry
Euterpe’s Third Sonnet
plaque installed
in the Sanctum of the Muses
In the Academy depths, a courtroom should convene,
Where Moros’ actions faced Judge Themis’ gaze,
The students, witnesses to what they had seen,
A tale of misguided hope and passion ablaze.
The Judge saw with eyes of love’s grace
Yet warned of the malicious danger that Moros sought,
Still throughout a divine love in this sacred place,
Became a safeguard for the artistry he fought.
Rehabilitation, the verdict echoed through the hall,
A deed so dangerous and such a reckless quest,
Yet in this tale, a lesson to recall,
The balance of creativity carries a sweet bequest.
The imbalance now banished,
the students and gods stand,
Preserving creativity once again
with a united hand.
Timothy Arliss OBrien (he/they) is an interdisciplinary artist in music composition, writing, and visual art. He has premiered music from opera to film scores to electronic ambient projects. He has published several books of poetry, (The Queer Revolt, The Art of Learning to Fly, & Happy LGBTQ Wrath Month), and is a poetry editor for Deep Overstock, a judge for Reedsy Prompts, and a poetry reader for Okay Donkey. He also founded the podcast & small press publishing house, The Poet Heroic, and the digital magic space The Healers Coven. He also showcases his psychedelic makeup skills as the phenomenal drag queen Tabitha Acidz.
Check out more at his website: www.timothyarlissobrien.com