I. Whole world’s a stage,
I know Shakespeare didn’t lie
I’d get to know the stars,
if it wasn’t for that blasted
padlock to the sky.
II. I lost my house key, but
I found a key far more valuable:
A key to the Erato’s* home.
III. My pen whirlpools into the page,
Infinity becomes my muse.
Autumnal-hued gardens atop
cumulus clouds come out the other end.
IV. Within infinite dwells the reality:
finite. Nothing’s lifespan is eternal,
Change is the only immortal one.
V. I seek more keys to unlock those padlocks,
but little do I know: the veil is of my own creation
and creating illusion is poetry within itself.
Erato: One of the Greek muses. The Muse of love poetry.
© 2015 – Eva PoeteX