Must I know where each poem arises and
Flies on wings across cresting seas? For
Now, I give myself to storm, verses cast
Upon the wind, greatest gift of muse and
Poetry, to write unwaveringly, my heart
Blazing torches into night, golden hair
Unbound, stanzas penned before dawn,
To know beyond imagining, clay vessel
From which words flow. O! Blessed
Muse sing to me as seas roar, as wind-
Whispering sea-grass, as first-breaking
Light on foreign seashores.
Written whilst listening to “Clouds Below
Your Knees,” instrumental by Ray Lynch.