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My Constant Mentor
by Quinn Blackburn
High atop a windy hill,
boldly framed by the world�s eye.
A maze of roots, a carven trunk,
twig-tipped fingers brush the sky.
Silent scholar of the ages
anchored by matters of mortal weight,
Yet like a guardian and guide,
stretching toward Celestial gates.
Adorned with Muses� hidden gems,
swaying branches bloom with thought.
Holding tight to realms above
where every dream is gently caught.
Thrumming, like an ancient harp,
Inspiration quivers along it�s limbs.
Stifled not by mundane cares,
bowing only to Nature�s whims.
�Twixt mortal and immortal realms,
as all of Life hurries by,
�neath Sun or Stars or Storm�s dark wings
dwells this quiet sage, you, and I ...
By Quinn Blackburn
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