To my Muse, you temperamental, willful fae:
You who pull the irregularly-shaped pieces of reality
Into strange and intriguing works of art in ways
That make the eyes swim and water.
You dangle insight like catnip on a string
At the edge of my vision, then whip it away!
But when you dance– oh, how you dance!
You slip into my veins and take the wheel
That turns my heart and soul. You entrance
The gatekeepers of Logic, Reason and Pragmatism
And when they are lulled and seduced to sleep
You slip gleefully past and turn things over and inside-out,
My bright little will o’ wisp of chaos and epiphany,
Who leads me into a magical forest of temptation;
My very own Loki, to yearn for and to love.
Yup. I’m grateful for inspiration. The muses (or muse, or Muse) have abandoned me today, but, hey, a girl can try to write anyway. Thank god for the NaPoWriMo prompts!