I curse the muse who whispered to me
those silken siren words that slipped beneath my collar
and seduced me into dreams of glory,
kissing my neck with the lips that dared to hope
for more, and more
to dream of the things deemed too grand for my kind,
for I chased them like a drowning man chases a single breath,
tumbling over the precipice of reason
with gasping lungs, with bloody feet,
and now I stand upon the mountaintop,
heaven in my hands, Atlas at last,
and yet, my darling, it feels like nothing
without you
