Phaethon’s Ride
Prologue: The Wish
Once upon a time, the Sun begot himself a son.
Inheriting his radiance, they named him Phaethon.
He grew up with his mother, down in Ethiopia,
unaware his father watched above, from blue Utopia.
Phaethon grew tall and strong as days turned into years,
but as a bastard “son of none”, was tortured by his peers.
His mother Clymene could see the shame upon his face,
so gifted him a chariot with stallions to race.
This pair of handsome horses had a shining in their eyes,
like they know a thing he doesn’t, but won’t spoil the surprise.
Phaethon could sense in them perspectives far and near,
and thus, he named the dual steeds: Zenith & Nadir.
Galloping through golden grains, he learned their subtle signs;
A twitching of the ear proceeds his tugging on the lines.
Their connection was kinetic, never needing for command.
A silent bond between the three transcended leather bands.
When Corinth called its summer race, the drivers came in force,
with whips and spurs to goad their teams around the stony course.
But Phaethon relied on trust, a glance, a flex, a sigh.
He trusted not in fear or pain, but in his horses' eye.
They took the final bend so tight, the center line was grazed,
and left the frantic, whipping herds behind them in a daze.
The crowd erupted, thundering, as laurels touched his crown,
An unknown boy from southern lands gained sudden, vast renown.
As he held the victor's staff and felt a glory swell,
A single shaft of light came down from where his father dwelled.
It kissed his brow with godly warmth, an essence pure and vast.
A signal from the sky declared: “Come see me, son, at last.”
Obedient to holy flare, he packed his modest load,
turned his horses East upon a long, and dusty road.
Past his homeland’s scorching sands, and India's painted skies,
They trotted to the end of Earth, where Helios resides.
Cosmic architecture loomed, marble inlaid with gold,
a secret wonder of the world, few worthy to behold.
Double doors swung on their bones to let this demi- through,
and blinded for an instant, up Phaethon’s left hand flew.
Blinking, streaming tears fall, but he heard the court of noon:
The Years, the Seasons, Days, and Hours, all singing in tune.
They stayed on beat as ticking clocks, maintaining cosmic fate,
guiding Phaethon into the heavenly estate.
Upon a gilded throne there sat the great “Hyperion”.
Below, the bowing boy was undeniably his son.
Beaming broad and bright he spoke; “My shining champion,
I’ll grant your single, deepest wish, so speak it, Phaethon.”
Standing up, the young man spoke, no waver in his voice:
“You honor me, oh father, with this miraculous choice.
The thing I want in all the world, no wealth of gold could buy,
I wish to drive the Solar disk, one day, across the sky.”
Like a sudden rolling storm, the light of God diminished.
Now with a tone of warning, said, “My son, are you quite finished?”
Phaethon, continued on, “Not yet, there’s one thing more:
the pair of steeds who drive your cart, I wish to make them four.”
Part 1: The Drive
The hammer of Hephaestus had designed the golden cart.
Its wheels whorled with the zodiac, twelve spokes, each works of art.
As Eos blushed with gradients, the dawn threw wide her gate,
Phaethon mounted the chariot, in view of all three fates.
Helios then spread a balm across his chiseled face,
a chrism to prevent the burn, a shield of solar grace.
Then Zenith and Nadir were yoked to Aeos and Aethon,
“I pray now for your safe return,” said Father to his Son.
5-7AM : the 1st House of Beginnings
Phaethon spoke not a word, but gave a subtle twitch.
The horses knew that silent cue, and four began to pitch
their bodies toward the heavens; first a walk, then trot, then canter,
then as they galloped, up they lift, as if by some enchanter.
As day was born, the world below appeared both large and small.
The watchers on the peaks of Earth had gathered one and all
to witness what this bastard-son would make of godly-fire.
And Phaethon, drunk on his might, believed he’d never tire.
7-9 AM : The 12th House of Uncertainty
The steep incline of heaven’s path grew sharper, and the steeds
ascended with a fevered rush. Phaethon saw the reeds
of Earth below receding, saw the shadows stretch and bleed,
like ink spilled from the mountain peaks; the Himalayas’ greed!
They reached to pierce his axle, then the clouds engulfed his sight,
thick cumulus, a muffling shroud, a solitary fright.
The dew soaked through his tunic, and his knees began to knock.
Alone, afraid, he gripped the reins, and cursed the ticking clock.
9-11 AM : The 11th House of Aspiration
At last, they burst the cloudy veil, and rose into the clear.
A thousand paths were possible, each leading far from here.
Yet, one true course - the Ecliptic - held horses in its line,
so Phaethon’s breath steadied, and he let his hands unbind.
From this new height, the shadows shrank. Below, the masses cheered,
their daily toils forgotten, as the golden disk appeared.
Their faces turned to greet his light, and every hope, each plea
ascended in collective wish to crown his victory.
11 AM - 1 PM : The 10th House of Culmination
The apex of the arc arrived, the summit of their flight.
A weightlessness he’d never felt produced sublime delight.
The horses floated, windless, as through grazing on the sky,
and Phaethon, with his right hand, reached up to touch the high,
the secret firmament, known just to God before.
His name, he knew, for this would be immortalized in lore.
A thousand tongues would speak his deed, a thousand pens record
the day a mortal drove the Sun. Now he would be their lord.
1-3 PM : The 9th House of Wisdom
The long descent began; the curve of Earth’s round belly showed.
Phaethon’s own stomach lifts, with weight of burden owed
to gravity’s demanding force. He saw, with oracular eyes,
future folk rolling on coasters, thrilled, although they cry.
The same emotion twists his gut. He tried to calm his breathing,
and called to mind his father’s words, his warnings, and his heeding:
“If you can hold the middle path, the finish lies ahead.”
He gripped the wisdom of the past, and let his panic shed.
3-5 PM : The 8th House of Mystery
But afternoon brought darker clouds, not cotton, but a loom
wove jagged threads of lighting lines, and thunder echoed doom.
The horses shrieked, the reins grew hot, the balm began to fail,
and Phaethon began to blister in the static gale.
Then, through the strobe, came slithering a head and then a tail,
its scales the umbra of abyss, its hunger an entrail
that reached from chaos’ first dawn. Encircling the yoke,
it pursued the boy who touched the sky, a dragon’s rage provoked.
“Hold the path!” he yelled, and wrestled four minds into one.
His royal blood ignited, and he knew his life was done.
The dragon’s jaw unhinged to dine, but from Olympus’ height,
a thunderbolt of Zeus was thrown, a sudden spear of light.
5-7 PM : The 7th House of Endings
The bolt struck not the mortal, but the knot of dragon’s heart.
It sundered their convergence, and then scattered them apart.
The shockwave lanced the chariot, the horses reared and spun,
and Phaethon, his grip now broken, fell like setting Sun.
He plummeted through burning air. Eridinus below,
the north-bound river waters reached to claim him in their flow.
The horses, freed from mortal hands, found Helios’ call,
And on the Western waves, the Sun, like Phaethon, did fall.
Intermission: Twilight
Up on Eridanus’ banks, where poplars bend to weep,
the Heliades gathered, their veiled vigil long and deep.
Running tears joined waters that still steamed from brother’s fall,
and each salt drop that met the stream turned amber in its thrall.
Helios held reins again, the four now yoked as one -
Aeos, Aethon, Zenith, Nadir - and passed the grieving Sun
to another ancient God, who’s barque would tow, as sworn,
through night’s deep underworldly gloom, back East to be reborn.
Phaethon, beneath the waves, became a living story,
a warning testament to those aspiring to glory.
The horses that he brought along still trace their daily arc,
and in their flight, his name survives; a light within the dark.
Part II: The Voyage
7-9PM : The 6th House of Service
Dipped in gloom, Ra tows the Sun through Duat’s Western caves.
His falcon feathers rouse as shadows swirl the murky waves.
A brood of viper-spawn demand the labor of his hand;
He toils through a new ordeal to clean the muddied strand.
The glory of the day is gone, a mundane hour struck.
Ra serves the dusk, his muscle rent by grime and bitter luck.
No kingly deed, no blazing flight—just sweat, routine, and care,
an omen that the underworld has broke, and needs repair.
9-11PM : the 5th House of Expression
Spirits crowd the shore attracted by the solar light,
humming haunting hymns describing life before the night.
A ghostly boy shows all his art, his shame a somber song,
From barque, Ra recognized the tragic soul of Phaethon.
He called across the river to the shade of son of sun,
“The Ride that made you infamous today is not yet done.
Swim, if you dare, through the abyss, and crawl upon my barque,
for if you help me rise again, you’ll too exit the dark.
11PM-1AM : the 4th House of Foundation
Phaethon took up an ore, rowing with fingers numb.
They breached the bottom of the world, the darkest cavern plumb.
The boy remembered Clymene, dear mother still above,
and pondering her fortitude, his hands were warmed with love.
Here at the Nadir, two eyes with pupils narrow slits
blinked open over rows of fangs, serrated round a pitch.
The dragon had returned to try again to satiate
its craving for the solar spark, illuminating bate.
It swallowed Phaethon this time, no Zeus to send a bolt,
Passing through the monster’s mouth, the boy went down its throat.
But here he heard the echo of his father’s middle-way,
And with both hands, he ripped the head from body, now to stay.
1-3AM : The 3rd House of Striving
In fertile silence came the ferry’s pressure to ascend.
To parse, to think, to build the world before the night should end.
Stone walls turned into woven glyphs of silver, pale and thin;
the Ibis-headed Thoth appeared to guide the mind within.
“Learn the grammar of the deep,” the rustling whisper spoke,
“The true names of the demon, if returned, will give us hope.”
He spoke “Ketu” for the tail behind, and “Rahu” for ahead,
and alchemized the dragon so inside the two could wed.
3-5AM : the 2nd House of Support
At last they drift to water still, the Eastern Lake of Glass.
The serpent slinks beyond their view, its final venom passed.
Ra asks what Phaethon now holds as his most treasured worth;
For this will be the seed that blooms in resurrection's birth.
“I find my value, count my gold, in duty to the cause,
building a brighter future, while within the cosmic laws.”
The coffers fill, the strength returns, his self-respect is forged;
And now the solar spark inside of Phaethon engorged.
5-7AM : the 1st House of Rebirth
The Sun passed back to He who drives the horse-drawn, golden cart.
Yet, first to pierce the atmosphere, a herald shoots his dart.
The fallen boy, his shame erased, declares his brand new "I";
a Morning Star, in glory, now outshines the waxing sky.
The light is sharp, the form is new, the old is cast away.
Lucifer arises true, to greet the rising day.
The circle turns, the cycle's done, the bronze horizon gleams;
Redemption becomes possible, awakening all dreams.