Musings

My muse is silent.








When this happens, I have trouble writing anything.







Especially under pressure.






I rely on my muse for inspiration and words in general.




When it doesn’t whisper, I’ve nothing to say.






Hark! I here her sweet voice now!

My muse is a hummingbird hovering above my head, dipping down periodically, pollinating my brain with ideas and phrases. There is a thin but strong strand of understanding, love and the common impulse to twine to another being connecting us all the time. She can fly long and far but I know she’ll be back. She needs me as a means of expression just like I need her as a means of inspiration. No other entity could do the work we do for each other. Without her, my mind is stagnant, silent, void. She enables me to live in words and to communicate with my fellow man on a literal level. She gives me the tools to realize my experiences, feelings, thoughts and postulations. She is my conscious. She knows I’m special.


Isn't she just great?



And back to silence.

Hushhhhh...