A-Mused (Or: What’s Shakespeare Got That I Haven’t Got?)
Here I sit
Musing on the Muse
Oh glorious Muse
Muse-ic to my ears!
From whence comes thy chariot of golden fire
To dazzle with brilliance my feeble wit?
What a pity little brain have I
Sitting like a dunce in the dark corner of the room.
Teach me, spirit, spare not thy en-lightening rod
Awaken the sleeping synapse and obstructed neuron that cannot complete
A sentence, a nuance, a rhyme.
I’ll write thy name on the blackboard of the sky
Fifty thousand times and more
If only, but only, you might reveal that name
Sacred, unspoken, mysterious
And whisper it softly, oh so softly
In my ear...
(Previously published in ArtsFusion, Dec 99 - Jan 00, Issue 17)