My soul struggles, tormented in the night.

Kalliope echoes back primeval joy.

In answer to the distress of my soul,

She comes to me, invisible and coy.

Invisible to most, yet I can tell

There's more to her than reason can admit.

This image is no dream, for I can smell

A fragrance only women can emit.

Kalliope only comes when men believe

Hope lingers as she passes  through the door.

Her face has features artists can't achieve.

She calms me by a scent I've known before.

Fear dissolves at the timbre of her voice.

We partake of intimate, pure pleasure.

My re-awakened soul now makes a choice:

Opting for hope and brave beyond measure

To compensate for fears this night may spawn,

Recognizing  my soul itself could die.

The night will somehow end and greet the dawn,

 Kalliope whispers still another lie.