Inspire me o Lady of the Word! Allow me use of these thy gifts. Thy permission grant I plead. Homage to thee. Thou hast blessed the mortal man with pen, and paper, and keyboard. Thou hast given unto me sensitivity and life. Thou hast taught me love, and song, and desire. I plead unto thee madam inspiration to pay respects to thy divination. For with the words which thou hast granted me, I wish to make unto thee, a gift. And though these thoughts cannot unto thee do justice, I’ll do as best as I know how. And though I am incapable of depicting, exactly that which doth flow within me when feel the ecstasy, I’ll do as well as can be done with the very tools you instruct. And I pray thou dost accept my most profoundest admirations, for not a master of the art am I. But I do assure thee that all my being went out into it. And so I ask thee to guard that which I am about to give, a part of my soul. Cherish me, and I do give thee worship. So speak unto me o Muse! Fair maiden of dictation. Lay upon me use, thy everlasting inspiration,

Her name is Polyhymnia and She moves like grains upon the sands of perfection. Swaying in the wind like some gentle force of nature,
Upon some lost and lonely shore.
Undisturbed in silence,
Swimming softly to the beating heart of earth.
And as she passed to and fro,
All who behold her know
Peace.

She is the hope which Pandora did release.
She is the outlet,
The cure,
The means by which mortal man endures.
She brings respite to those who follow her,
The likes of which no mortal lover
Brings.
She is better than death.
She is release.
She is the most serene listener,
The soundest word,
The greatest love,
Desire,
Shoulder,
Friend,
Lover.

Her whispers have inspired passions in the most devout.
Her breath has robbed and bestowed the deepest romances,
The most bitter hatreds,
The most pure emotions.

Through her one can peer,
Deep within the darkest hearts,
And understand.
And with her one will jump,
And shout,
And laugh,
And dance,
And cry,
Without ever knowing why.

And yet ever elusive is she.
For not one to be caught is she.
Beyond the hopes and dreams of man,
Beyond imagination,
Beyond conceptualization,
Beyond that which man was made to grasp,
Beyond all we understand,
Beyond reality,
Beyond even me.
And yet,
I know her to exist,
In my mind her touch persists.
And I am scarred
Forevermore.

More elusive as is the questing beast,
Incapable of being caught,
For not even I can perceive her thought.
Though I may try,
With all my perfect imperfections.
I am blind unto her as a child staring hard unto the sun.
She exists not except within me.
And deep within my soul,
Close to my heart,
My mind,
Myself,
I’ll cherish her forevermore.

She is my light when there is darkness,
My darkness when there is too much light.
She is neither jealous nor demanding.
Granting only understanding,
And confusion.
I care not,
For what little glimpse I do perceive,
Doth suffice to drive nations unto madness.

I am her loyal servant,
And her lover,
And her brother.
She loves me in ways none other
Can.
For created her did I,
Just as she created me.
We are one and none.
We are bonded but apart,
But I exist and she does not.

I’ll spend the rest of my days seeking the most imperfect reflection in another’s eyes.