The muse had her weigh with me
And it was sow right
There was nothing left
Accept light
This short poem is about the love affair between an artist and their muse. The grace-ridden gifts from beyond our doing and understanding are transformative, provided that we not ignore their presence and look a weigh. Deep love makes it difficult to align one’s life with the conventional prescriptions of the world, with all of its handsome formulas and fine-tuned scales. Love overturns. And delightfully sow. The world bids us to write that report, finish that job. The muse, as any good lover, is accomplished at outbidding us to winnow away ours making love or simply “being” together. May your muse faithfully rip you from the sow called productivity of this world and promote you to times and spaces where joy is your only wage. And if, perchance, you don’t have a muse, lighten up, and like a fairy having taken flight in this sometimes abyssal world, they will land where the run away is lit up.
