Muse

I stare into the abyss, the limitless depth of the blank page
I close my eyes, dream of nothing…open them again in the murky fog of frustration
I pick up the pen; a magician’s wand, a talisman against unseen evils, a mighty sword
But the magic has failed me, the demons lurk elsewhere, the metal rusty and useless

I replace the cork in the bottle, extinguish the flame, and leave the table
The solitary piece of paper remains, centered, ready, mocking me, taunting me
I stare at the starless midnight sky, marred by sullen clouds of no shape or form
Formless, like my paper; naked, vulnerable, hateful and severe

Lying on the lumpy cot, I pull the patchwork blanket over my threadbare nightshirt
Sleep teases me when I hear a rustle on the table, the unmistakable sound of a muse
Quietly and eagerly I rise, invigorated for the chase, anxious to catch a glimpse,
A momentary peek at the process of the assembly of life on the page


And all I see is a frail old man, replacing the cork, extinguishing the flame…