The Fall Of Muse Poem by Sergio D'Amico

What love, what joy, what peace,
onto which my mind had seized,
Her arrow my heart did pierce,
and blood flowed with such fierce,
into the night, into the sea,
and forever I felt free.
What demon makes me blind,
to what I now leave behind?
who shall water this thirsty flower,
and what light shall shine in the darkest hour.

Sorrow, joy, love and hate
surround a man without a fate,
together seated to script a comedy,
while seated next to the muse of tragedy,
borne from lighting, thunder and ocean's waves,
when gathered for their final say;

'A flower plucked form its native soil,
a conscience left in turmoil,
eyes blind to life itself,
what cure if not death itself'

As destiny unlocked the chambers of time,
I saw Youth feast on sour wine,
I saw His veins still in their flow,
I saw His head wilt in a lifeless bow.

If death is planned to be,
than death is shall be,
I will be destiny's hands
I will succumb to it's demands.

When Destiny's dagger strikes the
the final blow,
and as I look from a sandy shore,
to gaze on a life one last time before
darkness and shadows overcomes my eyes,
and I lay still and cold as ice,
when my heart stops it's rhythmic beat
and my thoughts lie down in defeat,
when time shall forget that I exist,
And the call I can no longer resist.
Where once the morning throned,
where once the blanket was blue,
where once the sirens sang their song
where all is right and none is wrong,
where the souls go for their final retreat,
There I want to lay down at her feet.

If death shall be my prize,
will my soul to heaven rise?
Will angels sing and rejoice my name?
Will my soul brighten the eternal flame?
Will heaven open the gate
Will He rejoice at what He once had create?
Will I taste the divine wine?
will my soul with heaven rhyme?

Or will my soul sink into hell,
as my body listens to the church bell,
and fire consumes my flesh,
as the devil scatters my ash.
Will I be condemned to feast
with those whose flesh is consumed by fire,
and spirit left without desire?


And if she remembers my name,
will she shed tears to ease my pain?
will she undo my chain,
and in her warm hands my heart retain?
Would she revive my waning heart,
with her warm and passionate art?

TO her tears I shall once more arise,
for she is worth whatever price,
no glory in heaven or damnation in fire,
can keep me from my immortal muse,
to her I pledge my soul,
to her I sacrifice all.