Penemue

Fallen Angel of the written word, speak to me my doom.

You who taught man to put chisel to stone, ink to page.

Speak to me, teach me to better my craft.

I could call to Calliope and Melpomene of that Greek fame

To make my words flow as Nectar and Ambrosia and Ichor

To feed and bleed the Gods in their sleeping temples 

Now quiet as ages pass

I'd rather you, 

Dearest watcher who loved man

Teach me to sow my words

Teach me the joys of the bitter and the sweet 

to see my treasured words, like water, with eyes awake

I invoke your spirit O fallen watcher

And should your forbidden craft of ink and pen and words 

lead me on paths to doom 

I bid you walk with me.