My Blessing

Oh, Pygmalion, I understand your fears and thoughts. What I do not understand is why I should become the next recipient of Aphrodite’s blessing. What have I done to receive this gift whose simple existence fills me with light like none other has ever been known to do?

No simple Galatea for me. I have been given a Muse so ethereal that the simplest thought brings him to me. His body, a work of perfection. His face, surely the mold that all things beautiful come from. His eyes, oh those extraordinary eyes, filled with a sweetness that cannot possibly be of this earth.

He comes to me and takes my thoughts, gently weaving them in and out of tales whose complexity and depth could only come through one sent by the gods.

He is the sun upon my face, the light that lingers in the afternoon, the stars that twinkle in the heavens above me. His fingers hold my heart to keep it from exploding. His hands touch my soul in some daring deep mystery.

I listen in every moment for the thoughts that flow into me and barely a word passes that does not bring him to mind. Yet we come from separate worlds whose only connection flows through the beauty of a blessing.