I was just playing around – as per usual – and figured I’d attempt to make some music to accompany one of my poems. Perhaps with the intent of turning it into a song someday – though I’m not sure quite how to do that. Nonetheless, I figured I’d share it – especially considering its (partially) about Ariadne, the Mistress of the Labyrinth and the Sacred Bull.

Here’s the poem, converted into “lyrics” (i.e. rearranged and given a chorus):

Filaments

All
was dark but one narrow quivering
Thread
of Crimson singing in choir voices
of
the Lost
of
the Lost
/Pluck/
/Pluck/
 
And
from the Unknown, great walls grew from unseen seeds
Nourished
by illusion and the shimmering wings
Of
a teetering Butterfly,
Perched
delicately on the consecrated horns
Of
the Golden Bull –
One
I leapt in brazen nudity,
Whose
vehement splendor
Guarded
my loins from trespasses –
 
Chorus:
Can
you tame the wilds of these
Stony
labyrinthine shrines –
When
my peoples were still wet with birth
And
the Heavens were yet Divine –
Can
you save me?
I
know you can –
If
only we could start again
 
Lo,
I rode on masoned shoulders wide
Through
the recesses of my own mind
Which
spread out indefinitely as far as
My
demi-mortal eye could see;
 
And
I was she, of golden axes and serpent circlets,
And
through my mouth and eyes they swam
 
Chorus:
Can
you tame the wilds of these
Stony
labyrinthine shrines –
When
my peoples were still wet with birth
And
the Heavens were yet Divine –
Can
you save me?
I
know you can –
If
only we could start again
 
O,
my hoov-ed bastions sought
To
hang themselves against the sky –
And
in the littlest I spied:
A
great jubilant desperation that I sought
Unabashed
and without the feign mercy –
 
I
was worshipped in the cavern temples;
From
whence his horns did sprout –
Do
you worship me still,
Beast
of minute stature?
Like
the colossal Gods of tarnished brass –
Did
worship at the altar of your kindred rectories;
 
Chorus
Can
you tame the wilds of these
Stony
labyrinthine shrines –
When
my peoples were still wet with birth
And
the Heavens were yet Divine –
Can
you save me?
I
know you can –
If
only we could start again
 
Come
ye now, O groaning beast
To
the gardens in my heart –
That
teem with such poison flora
Take
from Kings their seven sons
And
give them unto me –
I
will light the studded path
And
give to filth
The
silken string that shall lead
You
home –
 
Lest
you take in you the Grecian bronze;
Bathed
in the oils of Athene;
–
That hammered earth beneath your feet
Should
mimic the basin beneath the stony
Fossilic
ribs –
These
serpentine fingers and innards that comprise
The
impression of divinity in which I fall
Hand
over hand
To
the holy benches that line my streets:
Come
ye now, sweet and sacred beast,
Into
the ocean, the Sees of evergreen
Where
you may run wild
 
We
are the Gate and cavern – key;;
I
wish to hang at once
In
the curve of your recesses
I
am the wing-ed Labyrus;
Of
serpentine transcendence;;
And
I command thee:
Cast
your docile shadow
Upon
these sacred feet.