A woman sits alone on a dark evening, worn thin by Love’s manipulations. She has ridden out the first cruel enticement of hope, then the delirium of infatuation. And now comes the inevitable dagger of heartbreak. As she looks back over the emotional storm that has left her drained and shattered, she wonders: Is Love no more than an impersonal force? Or might She be an entity who would sympathize if one prays to her? And if so, how does one pray to such divinity? Following instincts she does not understand, she lights a candle. She begins an invocation. Ποικιλόθρον᾽ ὰθάνατ᾽ ᾽Αφροδιτα… δολόπλοκε, λίσσομαί σε μή μ᾽ ἄσαισι μήτ᾽ ὀνίαισι δάμνα, πότνια, θῦμον… ἔλθε μοι καὶ νῦν, χαλεπᾶν δὲ λῦσον ἐκ μερίμναν ὄσσα δέ μοι τέλεσσαι θῦμοσ ἰμμέρρει τέλεσον… “iridescent- throned, Immortal Aphrodite… weaver of wiles, I pray you That you do not, with pains and with torments crush down my heart, o lady... And come to me now, and release me from cruel cares; and all that my heart desires to fulfill, I pray thee, fulfill…” Her heart beats. Her body sways to a rhythm and dances to a song, as ancient as the grass and the sea. And from some deep place within herself, a voice hums back. Someone hears. Someone understands.