Daphne

Each has been wounded
by a different dart:
he loves, but she does not;
he is a god, she mortal.
Neither can stop:
she fleeing, he pursuing.
He is relentless
but, in the end, frees her.
She is consumed by fear
but, in the end, surrenders,
becoming calm as the earth
embraces her feet,
changes her body
to root, trunk, leaf.
His arms encircle her,
yielding her up.
She moves, yet is still,
whispers, yet is silent.
He yearns without desire,
celebrates without possession.
This love he stays true to,
honours, is honoured by.