A Poet’s Two Voices

I lay in bed and think of this:
A poet has two voices.
The one he writes with gravitas,
the other of his muse.
The one expressed in syntax text,
with surface structures clear,
subject and predicate defined.
The parts of speech are known,
phrases and clauses understood,
tenses and aspects drawn,
indicative mood expressed.
With temperament in lines expressed,
a state of mind construed—
The poet with his witty quill,
need not be ever rude.
His task is simply to express
what surfaces the mind—

Not so the poet’s other voice,
the voice governed by muse.
The former voice is masculine,
with animation made.
It is the voice of Animus —
A cocky voice of tongue!
This other voice, this second voice,
this softer, second voice,
is clearly Anima,
reflecting secrets of the soul,
compassionately expressed.
This second voice is feminine,
the voice of prophecy.
With first voice made in syntax lines,
this second voice is deeper,
emerging from semantic well,
of deeper structures born.  

Hers is the voice that gives meaning
to surface utterances.
A sotto voce of the muse.
Hers is that quiet, inner voice,
diplomatically covert—
Not so that masculine overt voice,
blasting a symphony,
with trumpets and with clarinets,
to make attention sharp.
In contrast is this second voice,
a meditating voice,
emptying the mind with softer chords,
harmoniously expressed.

Her Psalter is a curative balm,
It heals the hurt, it heals all pain,
inviting souls to prayer.
Together these two voices blend,
the masculine and the feminine,
to give a priestly chorus.
Inspiring schools of ancient prophets
to render their cantorial verdict:
Whether these two voices in suit,
 can truly, truly blend —
The masculine and feminine,
with Mishnah of new learning,
to give life a new meaning.