Fingertips reaching, separated and
Time-torn, round us empty seas, void
Of rhythmed verse, no solid anchoring
Shores, lost were mountain meadows,
Moving music of sheep bells, no sunlit
Reflecting springs, my muse and I adrift,
Empty and forlorn, for I feared she had
Left me to clouds high soaring. Lo! Time
Between us unraveled, two story-woven
Threads, warp and weft of tapestry.
How I missed our envisioned dreams,
Ancient tales told throughout the night,
Round campfires with shepherd clans,
Life breathed into enduring characters,
Pilgrimages and temples, love of gods,
Deciphering urn-filled papyri, influence
Of Homer and Hesiod, Greek chorus,
Ovid’s “The Metamorphoses,” counting
Lines, reading verses aloud, stanzas
Written along sun-bright ocean strands.
Yes, in pain, I had forgotten your love,
Patient counseling, “What troubles you
My child?” Drawing verse from warring
Decades, experiences life-endured, arising
From Greek Dark Ages, muse not one of
Classical nine, yet with voice equally
Mortal as divine, poetess unrecognized
And unread, re-emerging as muse, two
Kindred souls ablaze, once time-separated,
Now poetically connected, fulfilled.
Written whilst listening to “Fantasia on a Theme,” Tallis Thomas, HQ
performed by Sir Andrew Davis & BBC Symphony Orchestra.