The poets have always spoken so highly of Cupid and his well-aimed hand. Their sonnets immortalized the strings of fate he intertwined with a single shot. His name is whispered in the wishes of those who yearn for a love that doesn’t end with a snapped arrow.
Yet beyond the verses that declare a grand romance lies something much quieter. All know of Cupid, but almost no one recognizes her. Perhaps, in their pursuit of a romance that defies all odds, the poets have forgotten about the subtle ways in which love makes itself known.
In a quiet corner of Olympus, a goddess sat on her throne, a small smile gracing her lips.
Her name is Philia.
Cupid may have his arrows, but Philia possesses something more intricate: a chessboard that stretches endlessly across galaxies and nebulas. An abundance of pieces waited on its surface, each representing a soul, a constellation of possibilities within.
She often watches in silence, fingers hovering over the pieces as she contemplates the possible threads that could bind them. Unlike her twin brother, Philia understood that love isn’t always a sudden thunder. It could also be found in the thousand little moments often dismissed as a mundane part of life.
At times, she would bring together a group of souls around the same round table, each facing their own uncertainties. A simple conversation would ignite the spark, becoming the catalyst for something greater. As calendar pages turned, unfamiliar faces became familiar smiles that brought constant comfort in each other’s lives. Like stars slowly finding their place in the same constellation, their once distant lives began to intertwine, forming a pattern that none of them ever thought existed before.
Another witnessed a bond that transcended the depths of a shared childhood. A pair that stayed by each other’s side throughout the ever-changing seasons, witnessing everything from a scraped knee on a playground to the quiet heartbreaks of a life altered by the loss of childhood innocence.
Once she had brought them together, Philia would sit back and watch the strings of the connection weave together. Her heart softens as she sees the simplest of things leading to a family not owned by blood or birthright. Sometimes, she wonders whether these souls realize how one seemingly insignificant day became the reason their worlds would never be the same? Perhaps they do; perhaps they don’t.
But of course, not every piece remains beside another forever. Some are only meant to pass by, becoming mere fond recollections of an era long gone. In these moments, Philia finds herself pausing to grieve over the pieces and what could have been of them. She has come to learn not to mistake this for failure, for even the briefest of connections leave something behind: a lesson, a memory, a small piece of warmth that lingers.
Once in a while, Cupid would peer over her shoulder, watching the pieces move while teasing her for spending long hours. Whenever he noticed a connection that went beyond the trenches of friendship, a sly grin would appear as he flew off to nock his arrow once more.
Philia sometimes ponders whether Cupid feels the same way about the hearts he strikes. Did he ever feel the same sense of pride and wonder that comes from seeing a connection blossom? She may be the guide behind the meeting of souls, but she holds no control over what happens next.
Yet she senses that Cupid understands more than he lets on. After all, whenever he returns from his ventures, he always seems to linger a little longer by her chessboard than he supposedly intended.
The world has different names for it: fate, destiny, or even mere coincidence. But unbeknownst to them, Philia is the one who meticulously puts every piece into place.
The poets might never dedicate their sonnets to her, and perhaps the world will never come to know the name of the goddess who brought them together. But Philia asks for nothing more. After all, there is a certain beauty in being the unseen hand behind a thousand stories, content enough to watch and wait by her chessboard.
- Toni Gabrielle L. Eusores
(Photo by Zean Atienza/FEU Advocate)