The muse dance and delight
upon the midsummer night.
Wind song plays.
Euterpe guide my dancing brush
as I fumble through painterly haze,
negotiating the shapes maze.

I falter and begin again.
The muses of Apollo ascend.
The omen does in brilliant hue intend
my brush begins the dance once again.
Play your song fare friend.
Children of Zeus inspire my hand,
so my small gift will bear fruit.

Amid the pebbles and sand
an illuminated pearl brilliance strand,
speaks for those who can not sing,
liberates for those who can not stand,
cries for those who can not weep,
rest for those who can not sleep.