Forgotten ✓

||Adoration to Mnemosyne||

Hail the mother of muses,
The keeper of our mind,
Hail the great lady,
She who shines with divine light.

The blessed mother born of the earth and heaven,
Whose tales elusive as our minds itself,
No matter how hard they try to erase you,
You shall always reign.

You are the epitome of remembrance,
Of both our sins and sacredness,
You keep the keys to our self close,
And unlock it when needed.

You are fair like the fresh snow,
With hair as dark as the ebony bark,
Your eyes are mysterious and face stern,
Hail Mnemosyne the great mother!

The wreath upon you head shines bright,
Your frame glows with a sparkling light,
It is adorned by a soft green dress,
Accentuating your upright frame.

I hail the great mother,
Who kept my memories safe from every transitions of life,
You shall keep them forever secured,
Until it my time to learn.

You are the greatest of all artists,
No form of art is hidden from you,
You give forth inspiration through dreams and fantasies,
Enabling us to portray your magnificence.

You are the both frightful and fascinating,
Much like the thunderstorm,
While your blessings are like the morning sun,
Warm and full of love.

You are the muse of every artist great,
Residing in every painting and ballad,
You reside in every minuscule part of nature,
The Supreme's own canvas.

You are the epitome of a human's creative essence,
You prove that neither of us born without talent,
It but a thing we must hone,
Guided by you loving blessings.

You are incomparable,
There is none like you in this limitless universe,
You are its verve and beauty,
Without you they shall be bland.

You are the greatest of Almighty's attributes,
The mother of all that is beautiful,
You are the passion which brought forth the world,
Your rage shall bring its end.

Thus here ends the hymn to the great mother,
She who is the artistry residing in us,
May she never let our inventiveness ever dry out,
That is my wish to her.

***

(Old Version)

The thoughts of the past,
Where we often wander off,
Reliving some brilliant moments, some sad also,

Often we cry,
Thinking how things could have been different;
Maybe we'd never realise the beauty in sadness,

The happier ones are greatly welcomed,
Spoke with utter joy,
Maybe we'd never realise, there's no pleasure without pain,

But no matter what we say,
Or relate even,
Memories are the most honoured,
The precious of all the gifts of the lord,

Good or bad,
Happy or sad,
Each are stored carefully,
In every moat of our minds;
Things we'd never forget,
In all our lives to come,

That is what Mnemosyne is,
The guardian of our memories,
That is what Mnemosyne is,
Our ability to think.

***

Note; Mnemosyne, in Greek mythology, is the goddess of memory. She is a Titaness, who is the daughter of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea (Earth), and, according to Hesiod, the mother (by Zeus) of the nine Muses. She gave birth to the Muses after Zeus went to Pieria and stayed with her nine consecutive nights.

Personally, I'm quite curious to know more about her. She is what one might call an underdog; no one knows much about her.