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sappho

the girl with the ribbons

o sappho, o light, o object of envy,

that spans across so many a century:

muse and mother of the chords and lines

that withstand the final test of time.

by god’s gift your hand whetted your stylus

how may my pen close the space between us?

dare i make this show of arrogance,

i, but a bud of a new millennium?

yet the pang that stunned your moldered flesh

do i feel now in my living breast

how keenly does my pulse fall in step

with the tune that throbbed within your chest

we are the patron and vestal, to this art

two poles of history with one broken heart

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