My muse is the sunshine energizing my creative spirit
The rainshower cleansing inertia’s cloudy web
I breathe deeply of the perfumed air delivered by the breezes –
My muse disguised as the wind.
The magic continues
The spinner weaves a fragile thread
Taken to tangles and knots
Requiring a gentle patient touch.
We are connected by a magical thread.
Sometimes the filament frays –
when confusion clouds the perception of action or inaction.
Tenuous attachments attract uncertainty.
Fantasy, illusion, dreams – all is good –
Reality is often hard pressed to keep pace with the mind’s alternative universe.
Especially when that universe is shared
with the embodiment of remembered yearning.
A vivid memory of crisp breezes carrying wispy scent of hearth and embers.
Dusk falling rapidly as I briskly walked the few blocks home –
dodging puddles and reveling – charging through piles of crunchy maple leaves
randomly adorning the sidewalk.
Utter joy with the sensory symphony –
for the moment tenuously overriding
the swell of angst rising from my depths.
A nameless yearning. Strong sense of something missing.
Feeling such a longing to reach out and touch
the someone who was striving to do the same from parts unknown.
Continuing my walk home and
turning my thoughts to the evening’s plan.
Yet, down deep inside knowing that the longing would continue,
the vague sense of disquiet would go unappeased.
Until the shadows took on form emerging from the hidden realm
and the wonder of recognition became reality.