Muse I

It seems so long ago now
That I used to write
Words would flow from me
Freely, clearly, fluidly
To be crafted easily
Into the form or shape
I desired

Back then I was in love
With the simple beauty
Of the human language
At the basest level
Communication
At the heights
Inspiration

But for a time I lost
The love I once nurtured
I forbore my passion
For the word
And only now, here
With you
Has my passion returned

Don’t ask me why
You have reawakened
This joy within me
Don’t ask me how
You helped me break
The shackles of my mind
And set my spirit free

Accept quietly this truth
That somewhere in the meeting
Of our voices and our minds
My spirit soared
Broke free at last
And melted down the barricades
Around the word

In the past I have said
That in joy but far more in sorrow
Most in desperation and dark despair
Then does the word spring free
Then do the letters leap reckless
Across the banner of my mind
Across the parchment of my soul

This is the marvel of this moment
The measure of the question
That of late I have been gripped
Not by passion, but by placidity
Not by desperation, but by dissertation
Not by pain but by passiveness
Not by fear, but by philosophy

How then can this be?
Contrary by nature
As it most surely is
The answer lies
Within this simple truth
You are my one, my only
My now returned Muse