Apollo- Muse Of The Golden Mean - Poem by Seema joglekar
[Courtesy; -John Keats-“Ode on a Grecian Urn”—“Beauty is truth, truth is beauty-that is all, Ye know on earth &all ye need to know”.]
Rock outcrops trick a stream to torrent it’s plenty,
In a sweeping gallery you long to see—
The verdure caress sunken hills,
Burgeoning clouds tear the fabulous blue
In sunflowers Clytia cradles drops of dew.
In laurel trees Daphne treasured to forever crown
Kings &victors, here birds end their sojourn.
Humming birds gyrate in a tizzy,
Praying Mantis pause a step on Cassandra’s prophecy.
On it’s silver belly dragonflies preen,
Bees jazz a hopeless tune,
To decide who has stolen from whom,
With the wind, spirits of the forest hold a solemn choir,
Whips of routes squirrels run to map my rapture.
Here throng the gods I search
An ecstatic soul bleeds on every altar,
Surface shimmer to my touch as I reach out,
Flames enfold as the shadows disappear.
* * * *
Burning footprints of misty morn,
Smites the lives of all it strikes,
Helios (sun) so beautiful.
Coax me to love as angels may
And trip over the world’s sill.
In Nature’s cup I fill the beauty of starlight,
Bird’s songs echo to the rhythms of my sabotaged heart,
Now ask—who is the muse to whom I thrill?
In arborous charms of manifest truths seeks me out,
He draws me out-
In the contours of a shapeless cloud,
In the heave of a ripe fruit he hangs a doubt,
In the uplift of a lily from sordid waters he beckons,
In whispers of the distant breeze seeks better loving,
In mute things I dropp a smile that he is far from returning,
Vistas serenade it is Apollo of Delphi -that brings out the gypsy in me.
When in strife beauty & truth balance harmony on a grand scale,
Of the Golden mean of “Know Thyself”
Hence from the land of immortals
To lesser mortals he must reach out,
Place his hand in mine—we’ll be gone in a shout
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