The Muse

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In the moments just before ink marks the page I know that words will fall short.  For who could capture Her with mere paper and ink?  But I am compelled to try hoping that my attempt, though clumsy and sophomoric, may in some small way reflect back the beauty that I have recognized in Her.

She is new to me, yet I have known her forever.  Even so I have just begun to experience, to comprehend  Her.  She has captured my attention and stirred longings thought bruised beyond rising.  It is now Her face I seek, Her call that I await.  And in the between times I remember, I wonder, I muse.

I remember Her form, Her fragrance, the way She fits my body.  I wonder how it is that she has so easily assumed this space in me.  I muse about the meaning of this dance begun between she and I.

With Me she is familiar.  She is bold but not brazen.  Her confidence is that of assumed kinship and intimacy.  How is it that She feels like Home?  How is it that a raging passion and peaceful sweet rest can co-exist?

She is dainty yet powerful.  I have watched a dull room energized at Her approach.  Men straighten themselves in hopeful anticipation of Her glance or smile, grateful for any small attention.  Women appraise Her, hoping for an ally, dreading competition with Her light.

Her smile is a magic thing.  It is infectious and sensual.  Her mouth shaped in anger is pouty and full beneath a furrowed brow.

Her movement is fluid and natural as a young doe.  She is at ease and alert.  She is finely wrought and utterly feminine, Her spirit at home in Her flesh.

To be near Her awakens slumbering passion.  To be apart calls forth the Poet, the Bard.  She now has claimed Her space, her place in His story.  She is now set apart.  Sleeping Beauty can now awaken, at least for the moments that the Poet can guard Her heart.

But harken to me!  It is a dangerous thing to call forth the Poet and awaken the Princess.  The story will unfold with many unseen twists and turns.  Exquisite will be the rapture.  Exquisite will be the torment.  Yet that is the nature of the play.  Both comedy and tragedy are required.  Such things are always risky.  But perhaps the Poet and his Muse can create between them a place where the songs can live.

41 thoughts on “The Muse”

  4. Sometimes, your stuff is a cut above. None of us can do it every time but you get there more often than anyone else I’ve found here. I never read yours before I write mine. This is a fine piece of work.

        • I used to read a lot. When I was younger my education was in theology philosophy psychology. Younger than that the western classics. But I am not a literary person. I learned the basics of Plato from cs lewis chronicles of narnia and his sci-fi stuff. I have probably read them 15-20 times over the years including reading them to my children as they grew up. The hobbit and lord of the rings likewise. I don’t have a pattern for what I do that I know of I just kinda hear and feel it at the same time when its good. A singer poet named lenord cohen made me cry a couple years ago when I heard and read his stuff. There are some small similarities. You are very talented and have good insticts. For what it is worth I would encourage you to write from a place where you are vulnerable but not naked. Find your unique way, your special voice and you will find that folks will go out of their way to listen to your music. 🙂

  12. Such a beautiful love poem. It’s the last paragraph that is the truest of all for me, I think. The most real. The danger is certainly real, but the rapture is intoxicating. How does one separate the two? They can’t, can they… It’s learning the balance in life.

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