Once again Apollo descends
To the poets, his mortal friends.
Modern bards enact his ends,
With their plastic and metal pens.
Visions seen in creative dreams,
Give inspiration and the means
To construct verses in streams;
Pouring out lines, in endless reams.
The skies candle shines, and glares;
Every golden ray captivates, and ensnares.
The broken hearts, it`s illumination repairs.
Just one gift, from Pheobus`s many divine wares.
Poetic ambrosia, to steadily uplift -
This is Shootafar`s most valued gift,
To poets lost deep within Nyx`s rift.
With it, like cherubim, they may drift
High above the terrestrial stratosphere;
Where the atmosphere is supremely clear -
And to his face, they may draw near,
Without even an ounce of falling fear.
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