The Gods are symbolic of a past, like a pond that can't be separated from its shores. Here poets of flow and reflection ascend from abyssmal depths, the way light suffuses through water. Along comes Orpheus, in faded jeans, and a flannel shirt, a down-filled jacket, low leather boots, while wide-brimmed hat hides his eyes. His electric guitar can be plugged into any tree; its 108 strings each sound a different magical note— Even the pond sways to the muse's songs.