Muse

My muse, my inspiration, my mind. It eludes me, yet controls me, I close my eyes and can sail on the waves of my imagination. There are day's where my muse comes with gifts of finite, tangible thoughts. Days where I can take my words and craft a story, one with meaning, with a purpose. Then, there are days like today. Where it hovers on the outskirts of my mind, teasing me with it's power to grant beautiful, precious images; setting sky's, sprawling cityscapes, rundown alleys, broken towns. The ability to jump into people minds, to turn my empathy towards man; into full blown images of them. Their imperfections all intact. It teases me with these great things but it never crosses that bridge, it never leaps that chasm, never climbs above the great icy wall into reality. It teases me, shows me potential, throws coal into the engines of mind, then slowly fades away, alluding me to believe it is of course, female. She must know I love things the most that I can't have; making the moments where I finally get to grasp her, throwing my thoughts onto a blank canvas and making a reality all the sweeter.