Mnemosyne did spread her wings o'er Sheila
thus, in blind devotion, did scent her seed
with all the muses could inspire.
For, in truth, this valiant man
wages war with words sublime: a poet
touched with the god's own fire.
This descendent of muses,
brilliant warrior of meaning and truth
touches far beyond his pen and ink;
ever seeking what lies behind and beneath
another's craft. Divining rod mind
ever thirsting for Callipean drink.
Yet no pedestal for this druid rises,
nay, he would fly else be transfixed
for his joy is found in creation.
Thus here Euterpec child of music
stands beacon for those with eyes to see
and ears to hear this fascination.
O Muse of mine, you cannot begin to fathom
how your thoughts give wing to mine,
how your faith lets mine fly free.
A bright and shining fame is flamed
by inherent oils the muses spread;
we share the feathers; phoenixes be.
© Copyright 2011 Fyn (UN: fyndorian at Writing.Com).
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