Deus Ex Machina
Drama’s most realistic here—we make it up as we go. I love you I loved you I love Love, though he has wings. And, as Shelley taught us, like light can flee.
So we banish sunset from the script. The couple never went to bed still cross. They kept on sitting at the table, waiting forever for the moon.
Any man can become hooked by a stagehand’s artificial wings. Failed plot point. Exit forced. Like a finger they lift the machine.
The vatic feelers shut off for love. Our hero, insofar as he is human, could not transcend the impatient final scene.
He improvises as desire does—turns blind to the denouement.