This weeks poem is dedicated to Euterpe, the Muse of music and lyric poetry, who is known to grant musicians/poets their deepest desire. It has been imbued with the oh so delicate & graceful sound of a harp, by none other than the amazingly wonderful & extraordinary Bonnie Hodge, in whom you would do well to come under her musical spell, for in her the spirit doth lodge.
It would be outright defiant to say that the Muses have not enriched my life immensely. Even though we commonly refer to them as a metaphor of sorts, they are much more than mere words, and deserve to be cherished and honoured in whatever age we find ourselves in. By circumstance much of my personality has been coloured through the waves of popular opinion and the currents of cultural change, yet a part of me seems to remain anchored in truth, goodness and beauty. So my appeal to Euterpe is this:
How do we live with integrity while tossed and blown about in a sea of conflicting multiplicity, in what way can my bodily vessel be used to channel your splendour and to whom your gentle word shall we render…
Click here to access or on the image above, to hear the poet transform his words into love.
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Oh Noble Sound, I bend low upon my knee
In awe of your great majesty
That you might lift me from this travesty
With musical notes that dignify.
How good of you to approach my throne said she
To maintain honour in a world of noisy absurdity
Please sit here and tell me what your eyes doth see
Without the mirrored reflection of vast diversity.
From here my eyes behold your sweet beauty
That emanates out upon the wings of duty
A subtle gravity that preserves one in everything
The chord by which all souls rejoice and sing.
My good & faithful servant has answered well
Now for my secret which you must never tell
For I am the drumstick that beats the division bell
Temporal vibrations holding you under my spell.
Therefore music sublime appeases the heart
Enabling the mind to let go and conceive
Allowing the cloud of confusion to part
Opening the blinds we may fully perceive.
A poem by Jason Youngman
September 2018
Philosopher Muse 
Music could only come from the Gods 🙂
Hear! hear!
🙂