Paean to my Muse

Her breath becomes her voice, becomes her song
The air becomes a beauty to perceive
She shapes it right where others shape it wrong
And silent doubts give way to just believe
My god, She pulls the life from where it starts
Directs it in its rise of fertile grace
True time becomes the Now Her voice imparts
It fills the barren void of empty space
Her song creates the world. Her song is joy
It resonates like something like a soul
Her song transcends devices some employ
Like simple mortal poets, less than whole
Her breath becomes Her voice, becomes Her song
Shaped right, eternal beauty all along.

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