And Dark, the Muse

Nemesis knows those roaring gulfs,
The dark spaces that all luster claim
And assimilate freely while undulating orbs
Whirl without knowledge or man-given name.
Beyond the comfort of plutonian circuit
That marks human reach like buzzing barbed wire,
Crash the black tides that older moons sway
And the mysteries that within those inky depths gyre.

Nemesis alone descried all the stars
And bore the formations to which the zodiac only hints
And, donning repeatedly Promethean purpose,
Into poetic repose She’ll occasionally whisper fragments,
Making true the caustic words of A Midsummer Night’s king:
Only poets and madmen think they gaze upon imps.
For in every stroke that this peregrine muse may inspire,
Churning infinity one can, not fathom, but glimpse.