What do you do when your Muse is gone?

Can't be forever, right? You'd hope not..

Dear, dear Muse:

“Leave, but don't leave me. Look around; choose your own ground.” —-Pink Floyd

I will follow you, girl, for no matter where, your company impacting my senses is the essence of my life, which, at this point in my existence, I cannot live without. Truly, irrevocably and heartily.

Without you running incessantly inside my head, my life would cease to have meaning since you are the reason I wake up effectively in the mornings. The days are dark when you are not home, just like a lover who makes everything brighter and worth being alive. Yes, I need you, nothing else can match the formidable force of your character. And yet, you are so humble and simple and, best of all, quiet, providing a fountain of inspiration at any given time. Who are you, really? Will you always remain by my side? Because I will confess that without you, I would be staring at a blank sheet of paper, frozen in time. 

Your invisible hand guides my effort, and just like a hungry lover, you're insatiable, indefatigable and relentless. 

Darling; I do feel you are sent to my rescue as a spiritual force from beyond. A magical gnome inhabiting the premises of my mind. There was a time when you were absent. There was a time when you were gone. Those times were the longest, saddest winters of my soul. Feeling the lack of your presence invaded every corner of my being and I felt destitute and desperate. But I tried, I did try to live without you; pretend you couldn't possibly matter that much, that it was all in my head. I looked for you within, among my thoughts, expecting a revelation, but you were gone as I was left behind, fervently hoping it was just a dream. 

Unless anyone has felt this devastating emotion, I'm afraid you couldn't possibly understand it, and for that, I apologize. When the Muse departs for unknown destinations in the vernacular, she takes part of your Being with her, tears you apart and you're left bleeding from every vessel of your heart. 

Time will pass without clocks or calendars to measure it. Everything will become a blur, insensitive and bland, and you'd feel, in certain moments, that she has returned…until you sadly learn it wasn't so, and you're alone again—confused and terribly insecure. She had become an illusion and the clock ticks away the lonely hours and the everlasting days until her eventual return.

The return!

Without a doubt, the happiest event of my life. 

So here we are, at last, together again. And I pray that she may never, ever leave me again. 

—∆—

That's all, folks!

I'll see you next time around.

Love and light. 🗽❤️

René

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