Muses

A good muse is like a brilliant flashlight. His very existence brightens up the world. His words seem to bring life to the dullest things and his fingers are always pointing to things much more interesting than the moon. Moons are for female muses, those creatures that everyone has talked about for centuries on end.

My muse is very much a male muse, that rare creature no one ever seemed to write about. Like unicorns and other mythical beasts, he exists, but is very difficult to discern.

For one thing I have discovered that he is a bit like Janus. Instead of looking forward and backward, he looks at life from youth and age, innocence and wisdom. Almost as if he is two separate people in one tidy muse. Both of them incredible creatures with high ideals, definite work ethics, exquisite breeding and a sense of honor that raises them above mere mortals on any level.

They speak to me by living and working, by taking life by the horns and wrestling it into something that moves me by its very existence. Courageous and proud, my muse refuses to be bound by the customs and laws of a world that can condemn for the most inane things and reward the ridiculous. They have both feet on the ground and their heads high above it, creating plenty of room for new ideas and light. My muse is generous to a fault and practical beyond belief.

He inspires me to write and think and be without doing anything other than being himself. He simply does what he does and the light around him brightens up my world in a never ending display of love.