Sirens howl, temples fall.
Oh, to come to my senses,
to return to Greece.

The sun has caught fire and I am burning
my only love is up to her waist in the Ionian.
Apollo and Poseidon conspire;
flaming sun and restless wave
project through a fathom clear to sands
already impressed with a giant's fingerprint
their bright ghost net around those precious feet.
Golden immaterial threads in perpetual motion;
their electric dancefloor gently moving
about her toes, this surreal crazy paving
made for a Greek Goddess.

My vision almost completes a mosaic 
without an edge or limit.
I'm coming to my senses
I'm returning to Greece.

Infinite sky endlessly hungry 
for echo of water on water, 
full of wisdom, always new. I'd learn 
to listen and not speak, longing 
for the stillness of rocks, ease of the sand,
the presence of fragrant lemon trees.
I'd know the commitment of the shoal
find purpose in every change of the light
before flesh must fall from bone.
A constant dream among passing dreams
coming to my senses 
returning to Greece.

Muse, bring no answers
it is I who must answer you.
I feel everyone must
know already what might be achieved.
By unsurfaced roads I am anyone
who can imagine
a desired harbour approach from below.
Tiny sanctuaries and carved pillars grow
majestic as you near
at last silent and aware
in the presence of your Greek Goddess.