The Name

by Norman Eugene Eades

I awoke in a land - almost a dream, where poet's cried, dead men screamed, "O muse - let me be" - a brutal shame the poet must die to gain a name.

Like a thirsty sailor upon an empty sea, visions of what was, is and has to be, delirious with thirst I turn to Thee. O sweet muse of ancient Galilee.

Wrap me in a nameless shroud, to humble one born smart and proud, I took what the Law allowed.

And that was fine with me.

Copyright © 1996, 1997 Norman Eugene Eades All Rights Reserved

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This page was update November 10, 1997

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