Blind Homer, hoary with ancient, ageless myth,
sang the wily hero’s deeds,
a river wide and wild which wound
from it’s source in wine-dark seas.
Each Age it’s Homer,
each land it’s crowning myth;
when hunters pressed to earth the sacred seed,
their children and their children’s children found
the safe, green motherhood which filled their need.
When walls of trade grew ’round the hearth,
and roads breached tangled mystery,
Gilgamesh and Grendel entered history,
and scribes transformed the singer’s art.
From Parnassus to the Avon’s banks,
from Canterbury to Infernos gates,
curious man has given thanks
for written words to contemplate.
Now Time’s cycle finds us faced
with the cold vast depths of unknown space;
and we whose songs have sparked desire
must now devise a further fire…
with a poetry which fuses stars to hearts,
and a song which harmonizes love with quarks.