If you’re a good artist,

You might be famous in a thousand years.

If you work in stone,

And you alone see the dream,

You alone work out your vision 

With fear and trembling,

Your muscle and your bone 

Doing your bidding.

Thy will be done.

And if you are a poet,

And can afford the clay, the vellum,

Or the cloud space,

See if anyone reads you in a hundred years,

Or two, or five hundred,

Like Shakespeare, or two thousand years,

Like Catullus, or 2500,

And still be known for only beautiful fragments of phrases,

As Sappho truly was.

Though the by-line she was given

Somewhere down the rolls of time

Still stands, “The Tenth Muse.”

Who knows what may still be considered poetry

In the days to come,

But if you and your art become a muse

To others, your spirit will live on and on,

And you will have become a mother

To the gods, or a father to them.

-jenn