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A poem I wrote while very caffeinated...heavily edited, of course ~

I experienced the pain of momentum
Upon the back of a Satyr.
He invites a vulgar walk through tepid woods;
Invites capricious nymphs to whisper starlight wisdom
Into the ears of the fruitless.

The trees muffle sounds of ecstasy;
Longing beside the rivers of Lesbos
And crying the chants of pagans and priests.
In vain, I stab my ears
To cast away the Morning’s whispers.

The path before me blocked
By witches of the erotic craft;
The musk of their art a sanguine fuel.
In vain, I burn my eyes
To cast away the Morning’s shadows.

Which sin, I ask you, is for worse:
To cast away my gifts for grace,
Or drink of the Morning’s quenching cup?
I’ve chosen the path my fathers shaped;
What good am I now to this Kingdom?

- Tod Kreider