My limited senses perceive the Muse.

Mother of Inspiration!

With closed eyes I see more clearly your

translucent image taking form.


Past the threshold where vision and imagination

meet thought, with blurred vision, I glimpse your face.

Then you quickly fade away, and I am

overshadowed be awe and a feeling of

intense love I have not known before.


Have you stepped beyond this world of

time and space to return to the formless void?

How can I know?

Slowly opening my eyes, I slip back to

the dream world of mortal illusion.


Desperate to touch reality, my hand clutches

a nearby tree; the cold hard bark offers

no consolation.


My vision slowly glides upward to the

summit of tangible form.

I close my eyes and cover my ears.

Faintly I hear your whispers.




The Muse dwells in the chambers of the heart.

She wears many faces, speaks through different voices.

And only imparts her secrets to those not afraid

to look her in the face and become part of her.