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Odysseus rising from his bed of lilacs fell
in wonderment to Dawn with her rose red fingers.
Michelangelo high upon his heavenly pedestal watched
in awe a fallen drop of paint from his brush upon the wall.

Mozart waltzing through his golden years smiled.
As a youthful Ludwig gently composed his rock of ages.
Chiops sleeps majestically in his secret tomb peacefully dreaming.
His final memory of fair maidens anointing his royal vestiges for eternity.

A timeless treasure herein resides for me to ponder on

Had Odysseus stayed in bed his story naught been told.
Had Michelangelo left his perch divine inspiration be placed on hold.
Had Wolfgang spurned adolescence perhaps a younger man would rest
Had Chiops been a pauper a lowly goat herder his sepulcher a days dig at best.

Here I am, once again in love, with time and miles, a force to bind.
And should I falter in my journey, should I pause and look behind.
Perhaps I just turn around and seek another road that leads me to Nirvana.
If I resign myself to these than how may I ever see the sunrise over Savannah?