Calliope, Mother of Muses
release this wretched poet!
Cast out your line, measure the meters,
lend an ear to the melodic melodies;
teach this poet to sing!
Oh, Sweet Muse of Eloquence,
unshackle this poet from antiquated forms
that their works are not rendered relics;
rather, tarnished with a patina of vulnerability.
Summon Boreas, God of the North Wind
that their runes may soar upon ancient wings
and land in the hearts of men
with the dew of authenticity.
It was written in the stars and carved in stone
that a Mystic rule the heavens and a Bard rule earth’s throne
An alchemist and a dreamer, the Mystic’s magic cast a glow
inspiring the Bard to sing and lighting the land below
Roaring through the forest and bellowing over the seas,
the Bard charmed the Mystic, regaling in poetry
Beckoning the Mystic, the Bard stretched out his hand
but his feet were rooted in the earth and he could not leave the land
The Mystic descended from the clouds, but her efforts were in vain
she was bound to the heavens and could not enter earth’s domain
Their love within reach, they conspired with the divine,
transcending the laws of nature, the lovers’ fingers entwined
As their fingers touched, sparks began to fly
illuminating the stars, scattered across the sky
And with one kiss, pure magic emerged
on that starry night, when heaven caressed the earth