POETRY – FREEVERSE

Along the coast of the isle, I await
I’m awaiting the one who is heard but rarely seen.
His guidance, his vision, is what soothes me.

Thundering huffs of his steed surround me
Through the mist, I catch a glimpse of his armor
My heart pounds in anticipation of asking the question

Opening my eyes, I am within the halls of my study
An empty room with barren shelves, once full
No remnants of its former purpose

Except…

An inkwell on my table
Whispering …
You’re the one I belong to…

My soul began to shiver
As it transformed into a mesmerizing beauty
With enchanting eyes that spoke to me.

I could barely take it
My head was spinning around and around
I didn’t know what to do
As those eyes kept asking me
Can you be the writer?
That writes too silly to the profound
Are you that writer?
It is just a question to answer.

The inkwell on my table…
Was the caressing wind
Of the blossoming trees
Everything between hell and heaven

Now I’m back along the coast
In the presence of the rider
As I looked at the face behind the visor

I realized the answers

I am the writer of the silly, perhaps the profound
Yes, I have my answer
I am the Muse