Truth Once Known


His muse rouses him,
her sweet, whispered awakening
always so gentle.

She talks,
her voice like a cosmic timbre
arresting his sleepy antennae.

She walks,
her path leading him
into a winter’s remembrance,
a distant summit’s echo searching purchase,
as his tenuous progress is stopped,
a fluttering of wings,
a coded message.

They enjoin at his desk,
and then…

She embraces his pen
caressing his often lonely start,
guiding imprint across the mind’s frozen tundra,
where exploring featureless boundaries,
consoling emotion’s impending weather,
prepares him for tearful waters to cross,
she taking his hand toward horizons he must reach.

By day’s end,
exhaustion calls…

Perhaps only a page,
a paragraph,
a sentence,
has been achieved.

Yet…

From love’s sweet inertia,
the eyelids close,
the enigmatic lover,
his muse,
his invisible mentor,
forever companion,
joins his sleep,
spoons his cradled slumber.

How revealing the dreams,
the gentle touch of her hand,
the becoming as one with creation,
demanding nothing,
merely helping nurture who he is,
even for what might prove tomorrow
but a clouded nocturnal vision
without reality’s reward.

Still…

How rewarding,

this truth once known.