Poor, dear, Helen

she was the one every man wanted, she was the lady that never knew love.

From the ramparts of troy she looked down on me a simple soul lost in the masses of greeks that churned the ground to blood around me. In that moment the whole field of battle stop as I looked into her eyes and read the terrible story that was written in her perfect eyes.

Many have bosted of Mituses touch that turend all to gold but it was her lips that held a greater power. Her smile could bring a man to his knees and  haunt him for the rest of his life. All that looked upon her smile knew that they must fight to death to protect her and win her. Her kiss was the kiss of the damnedest of the fates for in it was pure joy but left the knowledge that such joy could never be found in any other. It was the kiss of death for many and to the rest it was the kiss of destruction.

Around her the world crumbles, as men fall at her feet and destroy one another and women despise her with loathing, and envy. All her friends are turned against her and against each other. The only love she has ever know is a love that others have drunk from her intoxicating lips.

Now she looks down on the plane and sees the ground is plowed by the war chariots and sown with the blood and sweat of men. It is in this moment that I see her and do not love her. Am I the first to look into the face of
 Medusa and not be turned to stone? There might be other like be but they are swept away in the rabble that tears the world to rags around Helens feet.

I pity her and hope that some day she will find peace and love in the arms of a blind man.

This is my story by young friend. I left that bloody plane and walked my own path for many years. Even though i looked into her eyes for only a moment, I am one of the few that ever knew Helen of Troy.