Again I will sing of Cythereia; the beauty that is Aphrodite; the golden goddess of Cyprus; unto the goddess of love and war; no heart of any mortal could hold fast against the sway of her; Cythereia, again I sing unto thee; even thunder-loving Zeus himself you have tempted into mortal love.
All are indeed weak to the love that is Aphrodite; the birds, the animals, all succumb to the ways of our great goddess of love; she who herself; even in her divinity she is taunted relentlessly by her own need for the mortal love she deals; she who knows, that if her love was to be given unto the mortal man; for the mortal that her heart and soul both deeply long; that if Cythereia were to give unto this man, her love true, the sway of others hearts would then unto her divinity be lost.
“Cythereia, unto you indeed all love is owed; humanity and divinity themselves are forever in debt unto you Aphrodite,” the beautiful golden-haired goddess, she who wears the brilliant crown of Cyprus; the jewels sparkle as her radiant golden eyes; to be a pendant upon the fine chains that dangle gracefully between her white and shapely breasts; a joyous thought; a fantasy that would readily arouse sexual men and women alike.
“All hail Cythereia of Cyprus; hail the goddess who herself tempted the mightiest of gods; hail her who swayed the heart of aegis-bearing Zeus himself into mortal love.” Forever more, only four hearts cannot by the goddess of love be moved, all others, gods and mortals alike shall forever remain weak to Cythereia’s temptations of love; lest she herself, the goddess of love, allows her own heart in it’s longing to weaken to temptation, thus forever conceding her love unto those in the heavens and also the mortal souls.
“Never relent Cythereia, our golden goddess of love, our beautiful Queen of Cyprus!” I shall sing unto thee again in yet another song.
