O Muse, are you here? I traveled
Many miles to you. On bended
Knees I beg forgiveness. No more
Phone calls or letters written. No
Distance between us. Together
We can quickly cross frozen ground
And safely return to our home
Before darkness leads us astray.
The oracle has been cast,
All prophecies written
And the script lay beside me,
Yet I cannot respond.
The sheep are led to slaughter
Of expected end
To supposedly read their lines.