Oh Muse of mine, who are you? From whence do you come?
Are you a stumbling, Dropping; fallen from the Pleiades?
An altering Utterance; whispering, hushing whilst I dream?
Perhaps you arrive in silver Pails of books, floating with Wonder Words.
I know the awful hiss you deliver when left unchained.
My Achilles Heel is your mark!
In a quiet so loud as to shake the universe, you speak.
The Plenipotentiary, The Word, the Arrow
Transcends, breaks through
Heaving all that is new upon me once again.
Oh Muse, you are a fickle one, indeed.
Spin me as you will.
Let the better of you take the pen.