A Poem About The Poet's Role In The Coming Age Poem by Daniel Brick

I love so many things I'm dazed
there is room enough in the world
to house them all. And even when
my frail memory forgets them,
they reside in an asylum not
of my making, until they reappear
to stun me with their beauties, and
yes to chide me for not holding them
tightly. So there is a part of our mind
which cherishes things we love,
is ever ready to preserve them
when we are too distracted, or
too pampered, or too careless
to give thanks in a litany of blessings.
I sense something momentous is about to occur.
Everything we have achieved has prepared us
for it, but it will be insufficient. We will be
summoned, we will be ushered into a new age of Poetry.







































The Voice of the New Muse:

Daniel, why can't you be faithful
to this simple truth: Your sacred remembrance
overflows with wonders. Look, even now they accumulate!
Don't blame Time for your forgetfulness.
For eons poets have made Time the culprit
for your shame. The Muse loves you mortal bards
with such deep affection you have abandoned
your obligations in the scheme of Time.
Listen now! It is so easy for you to sing
because the Muse has surrendered all
of herself to you. Your voices can turn
what is ugly into beauty, what is false
into truth, what is evil into good.
Listen now! There is nothing good or bad
but thinking makes it so. That is, your pride
and will be your downfall. Your present songs
are insufficient for the Role of Poet
that I, your new Muse, the one sent from the empyrean,
have created for you. You will soon be amazed and
enter a Future World, you will push aside
a transparent veil and a new song, one uniting
heights and depths, will be yours, and the singing of it
will plunge you into those depths, then raise you
into those heights. You will look back, puzzled
by what you were; you will look forward, stunned
by what you have become. Prepare yourselves.