Metis or Cunning or Conning

Know nothing or nothing at all, not even this:

The oracle commands in riddles, Know thyself.

Another manifestation appears in the kiss

Of the peaceful king and his troubled daughter—wealth

And wisdom wasted together in so much bliss.

Of their intimacy, their ecstasy.  Yet by stealth

Disguised as a foolish matron, Metis flits

From mind to mind in a time of tantrums, fights

Between the worshippers of Phoebus, light

Beyond light,, and old Dionysius, god of nights,

Of drunkenness, master of sleight

Of words. In that confusion, the Righter of Rites

Explodes over ancient cities like a comet

And overwhelms the tragedy like a comic.