My Muse
In the morning, to my muse, I speak… I’m asking for wisdom, and the words to convey it… Finding my heart, to pour into those words… My muse, he speaks! He speaks at the strangest times, usually when the mind is clear… A pen must be taken, and ideas written… So pen and paper, are always at hand… He is speaking at this very moment… As with other times, sometimes he presents all, sometimes just a title… Sometimes a dark cloud enters, sometimes erotica, sometimes love, sometimes sadness… My muse presents all… And he knows all…. © Jonathan Wikkins November 12, 2001 Revised March 6, 2008 All Rights ReservedWritten November 12th, 2001 © on Nov 12 2001 08:20 AM PST, David Michael Shurtleff other • thoughts
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"In the morning, ..."