Daughters of Mnemosyne
Now what is knowledge but a shadow of
Wisdom? And what is poetry but tints
Of life and death? Music is only love,
Perfected love, spelled out in measured hints,
Reverberations set in echoes culled
From hummed geometries, from pieces heard
In souls. Our memories are history lulled
By goddesses too kind, who want truth blurred
So comedy is possible and dance
Distracts from tragedy. And what are rules
Of grammar but astronomy where trance
And laws present themselves as sacred tools.
Remembrances of archetypes and arts
Of spoken love are waves God sends to hearts.
