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Prayer Of The Muse
When this life is over
and all has vanished but my creed.
There will exist a trailing vapor,
the last heartbeat will become
a frequency.
It will dwell within and push through
all the music that dared to live.
Inside will twist the double-helix
that is
comprised like insight.
There you will find
the printed sheets of scripture
used to blanket reams of time.
My elbows will rub inside the flesh of dancers,
heeding a prayer unknown yet sublime.
The reeds are always thirsting,
and the composer seldom sings.
So when our song finds that tempo,
it will rise above the strings.
Sarah Hendrickson
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