History is Muse

The muse offers herself in full glory;

Every historian knits her second-skin lingerie

With the needles of the moral compass 

Unleashing new sunshine into the 

Time's crevasse.

 

The historians

Unravel new erogenous zone 

Like discovering a new continent 

On a maiden voyage along 

The contours of her nerve endings.

 

Her tongue during the stone-age was flint knife.

Now her tongue is the state of the art

Swiss-knife with each blade a

Sickle, hammer, trident, dagger, swastika!

 

The sky littered with 

Constellations of stars like transient poems 

With every successive constellation

Drifting with the speed of light

To the holy grail of Hercules.

S. Chandramohan is an English language poet based in India.