Hermes To Dying Argus

You weren’t aware that notes could kill, And yet every human sleeps To the soft melody of their life; Ignorance is most tragic, and you for All your vision could not see the blatant world. You were a favorite tool, and I weep Seeing myself in you. You’re leaking Our blood as your eyes turn a wax Disfocus, and I wonder of that which I haven’t seen, what shadows of this sun? They’ll be thunder for his lightning – They will marry agony over you And rear a family of miseries. I wished To oppose, but all stars are fixed and I Too have my place and purpose in Heaven. I live now to know my flute is a spear, And from this day, the blade of each Note will hack some flesh of memory Unto the plate of my eyes, and I will Know, and do know, what darkens the light. I pluck these feathers from my sandals So as to close your abandoned orbs And shield them from the unseen one; And I add these tears to the river Of sorrow and my heart to the stones Which smooth in Lethe.