Poised In the Night
To be poised
In the night,
Like a serpent
Out of sight.
A single candle
Dwindles low,
For the poet
It must show.
His muse in
All her glory,
Inspiring him
Majestically.
Encouraging him
To greater heights,
She comes to him
These lonely nights.
Together they wield
The mighty quill,
On parchment made
From pure will.
The song of the muse
Is sung by many,
But to capture her
Spirit is yet to see.
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