Wings

Every artist needs a muse…
So many people take this to mean a sole source of inspiration
found in romantic passion.

The problem is that even in lifelong love,
a person is a finite and limited palette to paint from.

Dip your quill into the facets of their being time and again —
only to discover that a singular muse
is nothing more than a box of limitation.
The well inevitably runs dry.

I have found a treasure trove of revelations
from penning poetry and prose of the kindred souls I meet in life…

A heart to heart moment of murmured missteps,
the tender embrace of a beloved friend,
or a sultry night of undulating uninhibited intimacy…
Beams of light breaking through the cracks of a broken heart,
the crystalline perfection pronounced in a drop of saline sorrow…

All serve to set my pen to page
in eloquent verse of timeless human connection.
In truth I have found the source of purest inspiration
dwells in the folds of the fabric of life itself…

Stitched intricately over the blissful stillness of a budding blossom,
woven strands of emerald greenery
feathering between toes cool and grounded,
knotted in the booming crash of rolling thunder,
embroidered in the shimmering motes of golden sunbeams
dancing on salty waves…

My muse is every person whose spirit merges with mine,
every word uttered, every gaze met,
every minute passed in soulful synchronicity…

My muse is found in every moment that brings joy or pain,
sweeping colorful phrases across the manuscript of my mind…
any emotion that moves the ground beneath my feet
makes an indelible imprint of lyric and verse.

My muse is the supernatural majesty of the divine…
the whisper in the wind, the stamp on my soul,
the source that makes my knees tremble and my spirit soar…
Almighty artist of art itself.

For my muse is infinite and eternal.

Thank you for reading my words. I’d love to hear from my fellow creators! What inspires you? What ink fuels your pen?