Silencing of the Sirens

Some primeval songs
Dormant
in the ocean’s bed

float up
near the flowery islands.

The music
Echoes
across the craggy coastlines
and
towns, on the edge of urban forests,

calls out the bold.

From the dark depths,
resurfacing, the melodies

ride the crests
of storms, dissipate in foam, absorbed
in sands
of time, to be
broadcast again.

Heard, in another
age,
by Orpheus and
his men,

later on
by
Odysseus
Of
a tribe of Wanderers
romancing the unknown.

The subterranean sounds
can be heard

even today, only by
the kindred souls, pining for their native
lands, while stuck in the strange climes.

---Go out, unwaxed, in the gentle rain,
find out
the soft tunes
tossed by
the rolling waves; catch their ancient cadence---

The dulcet notes

whispered among the palms,
lined up against
the breeze-kissed, moon-washed
islands, in the cultural geographies,
found irrelevant in the new hubs of
progress and development.

See the Sirens over there, Mr. Prufrock, in the Blue Hall?

Yes.
The same
female singers
dreaded
for
their alluring songs!