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.