By: Gus Victoria
Dreaming on a lonely hill,
Far from your touch
I was visited
By a woman ethereal.
Attended by Morpheus she came,
Her beauty dazzled even the sleeping senses,
And her laugh was music divine,
She drew near, this angelic interloper,
And she bid me stand
That in my ear she could whisper her name;
“Thalia.”
“Why comest thou here?” I asked
And she laugh as she spake,
“Who art though to speak as thou hast?”
Mockery and jest her aim,
She struck true,
“The modern language you deny,
Preferring an archaic tongue; why?”
And I could not answer her but to say,
“Beauty is not today known,
Nor is it written
As once it was before.”
Sharing a smile with Morpheus
In sweet sympathy she shook her head,
“Oh dear mortal, of your own volition
You suffer this fatal condition,
A poet-scribe that has captured beauty
And held her hostage to your will.
I come therefore to plea, by my sisters and me,
That you set her free
As she is meant to be,
You love Sophia, prove it so.”
And I tell you love,
Intransigent and a fool was I,
Though I knew this muse well
And her sisters too,
“Nay, man values beauty and love not as before,
They walk in ignorance
Enchanted by soulless mechanical wonders
Bedazzled by talentless artists.
They have killed poetry,
They have buried literature
And worship comfort and coin!”
And then she did laugh her greatest ,
Such was her mirth
My own spirit was lifted
As she defeated me without debate,
“When has it not been so?”
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