Roses

Epimonos grinned broadly.

"I lo..." he began, before being overwhelmed by extreme drowsiness. His beloved harpist became a blur as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The last thing he saw was the last-quarter moon... climbing to its zenith.

It was time for him to go.

It only seemed like a moment later when Epimonos opened his eyes, except now it was broad daylight; two or three hours past dawn, judging by the position of the sun.

He was no longer in the dryads' garden. As a matter of fact, he hadn't the slightest clue where he was. He noticed that there was a paved road nearby - a road in the same style as the road to Corinth. Could it be that he was in the same area from where he'd been led astray by the dryads?

As he pondered the situation, he noticed two small bramble leaves caught between the fingers on his right hand. He bought them up to his face. They smelled like Ponane.

Epimonos hung his head in despair.

He'd lost her. He remembered the words of knowledgeable Afigitis, "Having been to the garden does not mean one can find his way back there. It is not actually where you discovered it." He'd lost her forever. And he never even told her...

He sat by the roadside, broken-hearted, until late in the afternoon. Eventually, something, some deep craving for a purpose reminded him of the journey on which he'd been despatched by the Athenian assembly.

He had noticed shortly after waking up that his sandals and all the remnants of his toga had been left by his side. He put his sandals on and fashioned a makeshift loincloth from the largest segments of his toga, to cover his genitals.

Then he summoned the will to stand up and began a slow march west -- the direction of Corinth, assuming he was right about his location.

He was too upset to be hungry, too depressed to tell the difference between fatigue and his loss of motivation. Hence, he had no reason to stop, so he kept walking until well after midnight.

His mood improved over the next couple of days, though not by much. When he finally arrived at his destination, the Corinthian council were appalled by his dishevelled state. Epimonos told them that he had been mugged by brigands during his journey, as an explanation for his injuries and ruined clothing.

Several months passed before Epimonos was tasked with reporting back to the Athenian assembly. The road took him through a dense forest during the first day of his journey.

As he passed among the trees during that stretch, he noticed the song of some lively birds off in the distance. Even though there was an elusive sense of sadness within their calls, Epimonos felt his spirits lifted for the first time in weeks. They brought back memories of the brilliant composer he had once held in his arms, which made him smile.

Eventually, he became so enamored with their singing that he felt compelled to seek them out. He stepped off the smooth, paved road and ventured into the untamed woods in the direction of the birdsong. He stumbled his way through thick brush and endless trees. The birds' song became clearer with every step he took, yet its source became harder and harder to pinpoint.

Just as he began to feel hopelessly lost, he heard the most unlikely sound - the dulcet tones of a distant harp; a harp that seemed to be playing in perfect harmony with the birds themselves.

Scarcely able to believe his ears, but daring to nonetheless, Epimonos began to follow the music. His walk became a trot and then a dash as the notes became louder and sharper. Eventually, he found himself back in the enchanted grove, moving among comely dryads who seemed mystified by his presence.

He raced up the familiar hill towards the source of the music and ran into the arms of his dear Ponane, who was equally overjoyed to see him as he was to see her.

And so, for the rest of his days, Epimonos was able to find his way back to the dryad grove during the lighter half of the lunar cycle. No matter where he was, he was able to recognize Ponane's music amid the sounds of nature and follow it to its source. For her music was the rhythm his heart beat to.

Many strangers visited and left the garden over the years, never to return again. Often, they would wander to the top of the hill to investigate the source of the music they heard. Ponane's distrust would resurface with the approach of every human stranger and her body rapidly sprouted the same thorny defences she had long relied upon for protection. However, her thorns always crumbled to dust before Epimonos' gentle touch, when he returned to her.

Ponane no longer fled from the strangers. She stayed by her harp, offering them the chance to prove to her that they were trustworthy. More often than not, however, they would balk at her unsightly visage and return to her more attractive sisters down in the garden.

In the weeks following her first night of love with Epimonos, Ponane's belly grew large with new life and she soon gave birth. Not to a human child, nor another dryad, but to a small, thorny shrub.

Ponane named her daughter Rosa, meaning "red", after the color of her floral crown, which had been permanently stained by the blood her father shed during the act of her conception.

And that, dear reader, is why Rosa, or as we call her, "the Rose," is so well understood to be the quintessential symbol of romance.

While her sister flowers are expressions of free sexuality, which is a wonderful force in its own right; the thorny rose is the very embodiment of true love. It is easily admired from afar, but difficult to obtain, and if you are bold enough to reach for it, you can get hurt. But if you are patient, and approach it with care, you may get to possess the purest, most beautiful thing: something that excites your senses and provokes potent bliss. Something that can bring two souls together, no matter how powerful the force that would try to divide them, nor how unlikely a pair they might seem.