Summoning of the Muse
Long have you been unsung and despised.
You have died, you have fought,
you have won, you have lost.
Your tale is the dust in a book not written.
You are fire; you are fog
You are lion; you are worm
Crawling through the dust of a book not written,
Long have you been dead unto the world.
Who shall tell your tale?
from A Power Play In a Dusty Library-- original poem (as in BY ME)
Prologue
In
the beginning was a voice.
It sang a tale of addiction and hatred;
it sang a tale of love and peace.
And it
sang the reason for song.
It sang a tale of truth and sorrow,
It sang a tale of the sun on the morrow.
It sang in wind as the dust blew over.
It sang in the dust as the wind howled round it.
The dust in a not written tome.
Canto I
He watched the pieces on the board.
And the fire's shadow flicked over them,
writing tales of before on the wall.
He set
them up,
With great care, he set them up.
In a
spider's web
He set them up.
The fog in the forest was a tale in itself,
A tale of lie and of truth.
But he did not forsee the catch in his plan.
in his own web was he snared.
In a spider's web
He took
the fall.
[sorry, other cantos are still in progress.]