The way a new line of poetry comes
unbidden, hidden by the Muses’ voice
the choice to acknowledge her’s yours to make
or forsake Inspire alive in your lungs
she’ll come nonetheless, yet Vanity’s voice
will offer, amusingly, Muses forsaked

Expire the beauty, expend a friend
N’ send her to netherworlds replendid
Our Source, and still they don’t get the obvious
(myself included) incense smoke from either end
of 12 syllables, a year has ended
and a twice bright fire’s burned half my time up

Related, debated n’ reinstated as a Tragedy
with Karmic moments more Merlinic than they used to be
I’m bound to see 1/3 is missing from this trilogy
Though 14 syllables have come together naturally
I’ll dive into the shallow end to see if I can bleed


 
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