July 11 Writer's Cramp entry |
Calliope was a nimble nymph and really quite strong for her size. The only thing large on Calliope would have to be her eyes. Her hair was like spun copper skin smooth as heavy cream. With a voice as sweet as honey She was every man's dream. But she was on a journey She was looking for her mate. And many a lad she turned down When they asked her for a date. She knew that she would know him as soon as she heard his voice. Then everything else would happen in accord with her personal choice. For at the time of choosing, she had formed his face. She had chosen destiny far above chance or fate. Hers was an odyssey of love through toil and strife and pain. And many were the losses that finally brought her gain. But such is the way of life things just out of our reach The mystics try to warn us the lesson is ours to teach. Speak Calliope Speak, call him from the wonderful unknown. For every good and perfect gift comes from words that we have sown. Harshly spoken words like thorns of sorrow, and hurt and shame. That sink their jagged hooks into our hearts and brain. Soft answers on the other hand Like a gentle summer rain Cause trust to spring forth From the seeds of hope, unseen. < |