The Muses

In hills where whispers weave the air,
Nine muses dwell, both bright and fair.
Each muse, a flame, an ageless spark,
Guiding hands through shadows dark.

Calliope lifts her voice on high,
Epic tales beneath the sky.
War and peace she deftly spins,
In every heart her story begins.

Clio, keeper of the past,
Scrolls of time she holds steadfast.
With ancient ink, in script so fine,
She writes the echoes that define.

Euterpe’s song, both sweet and clear,
Flows like rivers, draws us near.
Flutes sing softly, waters glide,
In her melody, worlds collide.

Thalia smiles, a playful guise,
Comedy gleams within her eyes.
With laughter light and mirth to lend,
She spins the jests that never end.

Melpomene, in sorrow’s grace,
Tears and masks she does embrace.
Tragic hearts and tales unfold,
In her shadow, stories told.

Terpsichore, in dance’s thrall,
Moves with grace, a rhythmic call.
Feet that glide, and arms that sway,
She brings life to night and day.

Erato chants of love so sweet,
In tender words her worlds do meet.
Soft and fervent, near and far,
Guided by her, hearts unbar.

Polyhymnia, solemn, still,
Sacred hymns her whispers fill.
Prayers and rites in reverent tone,
She sings to gods and gods alone.

Urania, stargazer bright,
Maps the heavens, tracks their flight.
With cosmic thought and wonder’s fire,
She draws the lines that dreams inspire.

Together they rise, voices entwined,
In song and dance, in verse and mind.
The muses guide, inspire, and play—
A timeless chorus, night and day.

2024 ©️