My Muse

My muse was a gift

Which started a war

Between sea dwelling nations

Each vying for more

My grace taught me again

To speak from my heart

With words I could not say

Carved into bark

My muse is still as lovely

As the summer I stole

Where to glance at her beauty

Left me breathless and whole

And like the wind we danced

As I balanced our flight

Me risking the fall

Knowing she was alright

I have seen my muse broken

Which left me unsure

Of which kingdom I would Siphon

To exhibit the toll

But Alas my muse is eternal

And Queen of all things

She is the reason artists starve

And the envy of kings

Her song can bring presence

To even blind sight

Overpowering senses

Ascending delight

In her height my muse

Is greatest of all

With an aura of beauty

And devotion her call.   

Christopher Baird 2011 ©