Erato

Erato Out of an ethereal mist her form – round, soft edges shimmering, a milky apparition, like the full moon on a foggy July night. Myrtle and roses came first in the aroma that took him to the shores of Tunisia and a Mediterranean breeze – his mind wandered until she came full into view and then his focus was secure…her beauty filled every available space and he was captivated, captured by love’s rich palette. He recognized her not from a daydream nor a fantasy but his Big Dream. “You…we have known before the slippery rocks and the gypsy dance…stars over Mont Royal.” With one look and a flash of lightning she charmed his sight; he should have known he was doomed to make the pilgrimage to Samos and the tomb. She came to fill his head with poetry, rivers of words to fill his verses and charge them with emotions. Instead she filled his heart with a drunkard’s love, a spring wine with a delicate bouquet…morning weighs heavy. “Let me open the gate and chase the noisy dogs away, my riches lie within the garden.” The shaper of words then took her guitar and sang sweet melodies like kisses and he was the Best Man far too drunk to resist her passions. He partook in the creation of music divine amid the cries of idolatry but he was deaf to the discord. With every song they sang he fell deeper into her graces and his destiny was sealed; he traded his heart to be skilled in the art of making love with words, a noble task. Whenever his vision appeared he sensed infinity within his grasp. So, could this awakening be the pebble whose ripples rock the sea? The seeker, who had found his treasure, was now swimming in fatal hope. I am jealous of White Feather to have kissed the artful lips of Erato and survived. Contest: Your BEST Sponsor: SKAT