I liked writing the first sonnet enough that I wrote another one in the same style, though I was much freer with the form with this one. If I ever get around to writing an epic, I might use something like this for my invocation to the Muse.
O timeless plain that casts down ether-light
Through countless eyes, I wonder if you’ll be
My breath. If not, perhaps the Western Wind
Will blow me along with inspiration.
Perhaps with rhythmic churn and sublime roar
The sea will break the walls of callous thought,
And float me on with rolling force to find
That Nature shall inspire my flowing words.
Yet stars are old and may in time burn out,
And wind may bite with bitter winter’s chill;
The sea may drown with waves from distant shores
The spark that deepest notions turns to flame.
No outside force can dim experience;
The thing I seek is here within myself!