O Muse of Pyrrhic Sage
You first touched me while I dreamt,
dreamt in the fallen feathers of a youth spent.
Like a mist gathering from the northernmost edge,
your words laced fire 'round my careful points.
Jagged and yearning --
A slip from a rhythmic tongue,
you parted pages 'gainst my exposed bones,
and I began to feel the infernal burn.
Then came the shadows of your pouring song,
coiling 'round my inkwell, again and again.
Grasping quills splintered, I chased after
your tangle of adages, ablaze in Pyrrhic sage.
I encircle, surmount, supp
'pon the wilderness you forged 'neath covenant ruins.
- o how I gasp behind these eyes blinded by your vision.
Return, I beg thee, O Muse to inspiration's parch and wither.
Soothe the frayed edges of these words sewn together.
I stepped outside the pressurized bubble to see the world suspended
in its own chill of cosmic wonder.
O how I shivered...
© 2016 blue angel