A sonnet that waxes philosophical on what is the nature and/or purposes of genius.
|*“quiz”: (archaic meaning) question, mystery, enigma, puzzle, riddle, quandary, conundrum, dilemma, etc.
O Muses! What is genius? Is it born?
Or is it taught? Why do some possess it?
And some do not? These questions are outworn!
As riddle over which to obsess, it
matters only that genius brings forth art,
music, poetry, mathematics, dance,
religion, and science—to endow heart
and soul to godless beasts which, by no chance,
we know as “Man.” Genius is not for wasting,
or for consuming it upon one's lust:
rather, it is meant for God Everlasting;—
to bring Him praise before one turns to dust.
Whatever genius's mystery is, it's His
to give as He chooses—of that there's no quiz.