If Deeply Roars a Bard for Epic Muse
If deeply roars a bard for epic muse,
like newborn lambs that crave their mother's milk;
if feet that lightly trip along with shoes
of Mercury whose message speeds, like silk,
with lightning's sudden flash and peals of thunder;
if fate told jokes, regaled with humor's laugh,
then life, Greek tragedy, with comic blunder,
mocks man's pride, hubris, ego, using his gaffes
(with bathos). But high drama's theatric peak's
for bards and Elizabethan playwrights
who, like seers, see with vision, craft unique,
wond'rous, and grandiose plots of lofty heights!
But to give up this dream that seems sublime,
I'd wish for, still, love, children, peace, and time.
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