In the still, quiet hour, just before the new dawn breaks, before the rest of the world wakes, I walk the empty streets in search of one who would know me.

My temples all lie in ruin.

Desolate and abandoned by those who vowed to love me forever.

My name long forgotten, remembered only in passing as that of an ancient, mythical being.

The queen of heaven–lonely without her subjects.

“The stars sing for you,” he told me the night I found him.  “The sun and moon dance for your pleasure.”

He was beautiful; a modern Jason.

And when I saw him, I knew he was the one I had been searching for.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am no one.”

“How is that so, when you are already mine?”

“Then why ask?”

I loved him.

I lived with him.

I allowed myself to age with him.

The day he breathed his final breath he asked me, “who are you?”

“I am yours.”

“But who were you before?”

“No one,” I replied.