Dialogue With The Muse

(Transcript at silent hour)

         Me:

          There You go again...
       Springing the submarine 
       on me, the smirk of water 
       Tasting Your skin.
       Roasting marshmallows on 
       hot lava wouldn't be so mean.

Muse:         

Marshmallows would be lovely         

Melted from the warmth of that         

nib you held more dear than me.         

Why is it cuddled and adored,         

Nestled in your fingers? I am allured.         

         Me:

      Leave all allure to me, like those 

       waves in Your eyes and the

       gaze that You choose as spies.

       The nib drinks the fluid in my arteries 

       and veins, yet speaks of You

       As the crown that rules and reigns.

Muse:         

And here I thought that heart         

Is mine, the abode I call home.         

The music that has your sign         

Calls my name in stark of night         

And on sun's every sight.         

         Me:

      The sun You see there... is the 

       light from Your lips, the night 

       A shadow of unexplored 

       Emerald ocean cold, cast by 

       mind. The music in my sails 

       Carries the voyage of 

       Your breath, Your words...

       Oxygen for my cells.  

Muse:         

I know of no words that you         

weave in those plots. Have I         

ever been that or something         

more than your thoughts?         

Salt of my soul craves for the         

honey in those eyes, you say         

mine is chocolate, but yours hold         

Aether and gardenias on rise.         

         Me:

      Who would say that without a

       pulse to spare! The flowers are

       for you, of earth or of places 

       found nowhere. Telekinesis that

       You test on me, neither honey

       Nor all of sun's gold could 

       ever decree; not in stances that 

       Your presence stakes, not even

       aether would agree. Tell me once 

       more, how can You crave me, when 

       You are everywhere, whistling my 

       existence, the song of my core? 

Muse:         

Ask your breath that entwines         

with mine. Ask your eyes, that         

catch my blinks, isn't that enough         

of a sign? Ask your murmurs         

that whisper in my heart, ask         

your skin, the address of its         

fragrance in my blood.         

I'm not of words, they are yours         

to carve. Should I go on, or is this         

Enough for a start?         

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