Clio holds her scroll and tablet:
blue gray and parchment pale.
She weaves her tales of facts and fictions,
but patterns blare to no avail.
How must She weep in frustration
to see our blind assertions--
Our right, their wrong,
our certitutudes and aspersions!
Still patient, She searches for an open mind,
a willing heart,
a questing spirit,
then breathes her spark aloft.
In darkest night, to those who answer
She beckons to the Light.