The Lyres of Ur

by Ciarán Cork

 

We see how you discern us – with lapis eyes, thief

An ancient relic of time be-passed

You stare in awe, something of disbelief

Negate the right to rest, harassed

Though should you stop, make not a sound

And descry our ethereal choir of ten

To our way of life you are abound

Let our song beacon your argent boat far from the bullpen

To our amaranthine beauty, that sees no end

Ever and again concealed in an adorned boneyard

Amidst silver and gold, she played to mend

The heart of Shamash, with the exit of a bard

 

And if you too should seek to ink your own verse

I contest that you consider           your relic            a hearse