Aoide, Femininity Thy Power And Thy Strength

Aoide, Daughter of gods! Muse of men! For my mortality shed not a tear though on thy ruins I lie in great despair, I know this place, fruitfulness and knowledge blend thine art championing its righteous cause. I see the gentle slope near the hill where Bacchus stood in thy shadow and paused, his voice silent, his chin dripping with wine shattered by thy song. Lesser gods bedeviled, the wind thy breath, femininity thy power and thy strength. In poetic works humble thoughts grow bold but music adds dimension to the soul. I look upon this visage and handless arm, time can never mar an ageless form shameless in its purity and charm. In the heavens thy shape stridently wove entwined by stars thy memory thus enthroned.