Muses Nine Poem by Alicia Patti

I wander through these woods alone
at night, when all the world is still
and not a light to guide me.
To my left, careening cliffs of tangle
weed; my right bears brooding
wisps of winter trees.
Surrounded by the mist, I long for home
as one would long for shooting stars
to melt the frozen snow and dare the fires
of hell to intervene, their incandescent glow
a flaming laurel to Apollo.

At last I hunt astride the winged horse,
perchance to find the legendary muse
who haunted all my nights and filled
my days with dreams of fortune and success.
And, crazed, I wander still, my burning brain
transfixed by the wonder of the written word.

Hold fast! Ahead I see the faintest glimmer,
a pinpoint light, a spark, a silvery shimmer.
My breath blows cold and crackles in the frosty
trees, as once again I face the Hound of Verse.
Are you really she, allusive muse,
or do you mean to heap abusive scorn on all
my shining rhetoric, to make of me
a proud but lonely heretic?

So, late! How I long to fly ahead to
greet my ladies nine, to dare to wed each
one in turn, to pledge my fevered soul to their design.
Oh, Muses, make me whole!

But wait! Is this the spark now turned star?
I see it glowing in the glen afar.
I hear fair Euterpe’s tender song,
Erato beckons. But am I saved?
How long before my muses make me
all their own...
no more to wander through these woods alone.