The Muse

She visited me last night, the muse, I don’t dream much and rarely with clarity and memory. But there she was soft subtle, she was one, yet a blend of all. In my dream she was mine and not – smoothly filling the cracks in our moment restoring communication to that level. The perfect mix of the rectangle, the eyes, the moment, passion, creation! Why is there this distance? Is creativity fueled by “What comes next?” The unknown, mystery, do we know what comes next? If we did would it sully the moment? She was there last night. It was a high school dance. She was with another. But not. There was an uncomfortable posturing. Communication was unclear. She was there. Close, but far, across the room beside me. She was there in my dream, in our moment she was there.

Where was I?

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