Mortals have trouble understanding the concept of love:
What does it mean?
What is it?
Will it ever happen to me?
All the questions and more run through their mind- since they have been able to think for themselves and distance themselves from the realm of apes, that one eternal question lingers-
What is love?
Such a swift, fleeting, eternal, painful, wondrous thing- it cannot be put into words.
Yet mortals have put it into flesh and blood- Aphrodite and her son Eros.
Ridiculous, I say.
How can such a malicious thing be called love? It is a disgusting mockery.
Then again...I am hypocritical. Once I thought love to be something best left to others- my siblings and nephews seeming to have so much trouble with it.
Zeus, constantly running around with mortal girls, having affair after affair.
Hera, wracked with jealousy, her wrath turning a once proud and beautiful goddess into a vengeful shrew who took her anger on her husband's hapless bastard children.
Apollo, with his dryad, who spurne