There comes a time in a man’s life
when the woman he loves
is not in the world.
She’s in him. He sings to her,
feeds her. His joy radiates
in this creative spirit
of his own soul.
Who knew how this could go?
I thought I saw her once
in a real woman,
but that was unfair.
Then, I looked for her in moods,
but they are the result of her,
not the cause.
Now I know—she lives
in the core of my being.
What I’d like to know
is that her shining face,
her golden light,
will be with me always.
But she is fickle,
needs comfort,
wants to know she is welcome.
So, I built an inner chamber,
a magnificent room for her,
here in the castle of my soul.
Come here sweet princess. Be at ease.
For I am a creative man
and you are the source of all joy.
Anthony SignorelliThanks for reading! Please consider a paid subscription as a fair exchange of energy and to help support my creative work. I am grateful for your attention!
Makes me think of John Fowles’s brilliant book “The “Magus”.
Anthony - It's funny this shows up in my inbox. I am writing historical fiction at the moment, a long account of how I came to have a muse, a very real muse, that only on rare occasions makes an appearance, but I suspect is involved in my creativity more than I am aware. My muse is neither male or female or human. It is hard to explain. But when my muse arrives and takes over my fingers, it is like an out of body experience.