the lost music and the songs unsung

I think I hear the lost music
Of the greeks
when I gaze on you helikon,
Singing of lovers lost and won
And battles fought
beneath the attic sun,
Giving no quarter.
I see sunrises in the arms
Of lovers beneath the myrtle
Of mytilene,
God-prowed ships bringing
Sorrow to errant cities
Beyond the smoke wreathed
hellespont.
Am I now not disappeared
Completely
into the aeolian twilight?

Yes I am gone now,
Gone with the lost hymns
And songs of sappho,
Sung for her beloved
atthis and aphrodite
From her couch among the
Blown flowers
And wild pines,
The acres of lost songs
The ravening maw of history
Did not deign to spare
But swallowed whole
And secreted
within its foul black
sarcophagus.
All those sad sweet lyrics
Alcaeus,
Spent and spun
And dissolving into silence
after the symposium.
Yes I am gone now.

And you my friend,
How much unborn music
Have you buried
in the impregnable vault
of your proud heart?
All those songs
you refuse to write
For hurt and pride
And the canker of
disillusionment
Gnawing at your soul?
The songs you will never sing,
That will never see
the light of day,
Will never blow a boring
Night away,
At 140 beats per minute.
What a loss is this,
Sadder than all my
Half forgotten greeks,
These songs of yours
That were never written,
Never lost,
So never found.

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