In realms where muses dance and dreams take flight,
There dwells a deity, a radiant light.
Scarlatti, Bard of art in every form,
In His embrace, all mortal hearts transform.

A golden lyre, His chosen sacred sign,
Strummed by His hands, in melodies divine.
Each note He plucks, a universe unveiled,
In verses sung, His mysteries are hailed.

Imagination, quill with barbs that tease,
Unleashes torrents of creative seas.
Each stroke, a journey to uncharted lands,
In worlds He paints, the soul of art expands.

Passion, palette with hues beyond the eye,
Emotions captured, soaring to the sky.
In colours bold, His fervent brush does sweep,
Through realms of heart, in wondrous rhythms deep.

In quiet moments, midst a twilight's grace,
He beckons bards to join the endless chase.
To touch the stars, to dance with moonlit dreams,
In Scarlatti's arms, where inspiration gleams.

So heed the call of the Great Bard's domain,
In every note and verse, His art sustain.
In music, words, and colours intertwined,
With Scarlatti's grace, let artistry define.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Phaestian, in the year 929 AF.