Post by AquarianM on Oct 12, 2016 2:35:55 GMT -5
Even The Tiniest Place Needs The Sun...
Ah, the gifts of muses,
To hear their call is to see life with a poet's eyes,
That permanent magnifying glass,
The very air in front of your sight,
It bends time and space,
Makes them pull on your heart in such a way,
Such a way indeed.
You who read me often know it;
A flower never moves,
Nor the blade of grass worshiping at its root,
Unlike the dog,
Or the butterfly,
The world is a small place for a tree or flower,
Not much less for the spider who weaves,
A web for just one season amidst its leaves.
This world has almost lost its flowers,
Might never notice a blade of grass,
But for the sight of poets,
Like fairies and elves,
The small world would be lost.
This then is the true gift of the Muses,
To bring sunlight to the existence of every little thing,
To bring depth and meaning to each moment,
So that all of life receives just enough hurrah,
For attention and love fuel this universe.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/12/2016
Ah, the gifts of muses,
To hear their call is to see life with a poet's eyes,
That permanent magnifying glass,
The very air in front of your sight,
It bends time and space,
Makes them pull on your heart in such a way,
Such a way indeed.
You who read me often know it;
A flower never moves,
Nor the blade of grass worshiping at its root,
Unlike the dog,
Or the butterfly,
The world is a small place for a tree or flower,
Not much less for the spider who weaves,
A web for just one season amidst its leaves.
This world has almost lost its flowers,
Might never notice a blade of grass,
But for the sight of poets,
Like fairies and elves,
The small world would be lost.
This then is the true gift of the Muses,
To bring sunlight to the existence of every little thing,
To bring depth and meaning to each moment,
So that all of life receives just enough hurrah,
For attention and love fuel this universe.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/12/2016