The Muse Constance
A boarding pass on the good ship.
A breath to behold upon the horizon.
Promise of a long and fateful trip
Upon the decorous Steamer – Kismet.
The open sea - calm without strait.
The first dance to celebrate
As the muse plays on into the late
For there is no inevitable to forget.
No eventual; no certainty; no end.
The edge is infinite - beyond the planets;
The stars; the galaxies – the eternity
Of seas where the knowns offend.
‘Tis an infinitesimal flicker of light
Across the timeless dark of existence.
Come my traveling delight
We will dance to the muse Constance.
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