Untitled #3 or Be My Muse
A call was made, to nobody for sure.
An answer was given, a surprise to me.
Past comes alive, still a soul so pure.
Why the sudden gift, the presence of beauty.
It was there once, undetected by duress.
Is it there again, cloaked by defect.
Lost in two worlds, contentment and distress.
Will it balance, or tip with intent.
A poet with no muse, a shadow with no tenement.
The quill with no ink, the book with no words.
The presence given was received, met with rumination.
Interpretation of the mind, resolution is like a book of lore.
An answer was given, a surprise to me.
Past comes alive, still a soul so pure.
Why the sudden gift, the presence of beauty.
It was there once, undetected by duress.
Is it there again, cloaked by defect.
Lost in two worlds, contentment and distress.
Will it balance, or tip with intent.
A poet with no muse, a shadow with no tenement.
The quill with no ink, the book with no words.
The presence given was received, met with rumination.
Interpretation of the mind, resolution is like a book of lore.
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