Apollo guides my pen
Even truer than he
Guided Paris' arrow into
The soft vulnerability of
Achilles' heel.

The God of Poetry sends me
Ink and paper and inspiration.
He spins stories in my mind like
The Fates spin lives,
Snipping off loose strings and
Weaving in new ones;
The pattern ever changing,
A veritable sea of humanity that
Even Poseidon cannot
Control.

Phrases pour out in waterfalls
Without a second thought,
Churning up literature and
Mixing in new ideas,
For the pen truly is
Mightier than the sword.
Scribble out the "s" and
"sword" turns into "word",
And even Athena would agree that
Words are often wiser than
Weapons.

Apollo must have angered Aphrodite
Because he was always
Unlucky in love,
But poetry will never
Scorn his advances,
Instead inviting him
And all in to listen
To paintings and watch
The music and taste
Dreams.