Love and the Muse
To love a fool is to be a fool
Foolishly he runs then flys
To take the part of him unmistakable as his muse. Crumple it, but only to set it aside
Love always takes him back to his muse.
Grand Central Station. Turn left, straight, right, right again, then down. Past the homeless interviewing himself, lost to his muse and to his love
Foolishly crawl further away from his muse! To find the deep part of himself that rejects his muse
Take a train to Connecticut, hysteria and sirens behind
A trip up on a rock, or an untied shoe usually lands you there, the middle of nowhere
When you arise, dust on then off, you are surrounded by what you have searched for.
Once found, love that is, the muse can be carefully unraveled
Love and the muse can live in harmony, they should in fact! They must!
For the muse can only be known once lost, foolishly searching for love.
Grace and Peace,
Justin
