To The Black Muse

O’ ye flowing Muse of transparency!

Entwined within exaltation’s summit

Eclipsing, from throats, vales of poesy

For the will of a galloping Hermit

Whom shoots arrows of time with hands of light

Among ripe moors of divine solitude,

He parts with silver tongues the people’s sight

To your heavens interned through him subdued.

Dwelling in shimmering valleys of gold,

Glowing in the landscapes of a child’s dream

Fragments seduce animations of old

Whom you’ve branded strong enough to redeem

(All serpents coiling the mind to a brood)

Reflecting from your scythed tusks bleak visions,

Futlities shards of darkness renewed

To burn soft under the Sun’s derisions.

Suffering moulds upon Apollo’s grip

And necessity folds to gratitude,

Ears are swarmed by harmonies of worship

Casually rising the poets to a feud;

Unheard, your intrinsic flesh is veiled by

Proposition: Are you dead / or am I?