Muse

Living water flows from veins ripped open by the world

The sun shines right through some people. If you’re at the right place at the right time, you’ll see how they carry the burden of the joy that fills your world. It’s a very private burden. To know it feels wrong.

But if you hold her hand in an imaginary land where to know is not a crime, you’ll feel the water slipping through her fingers; living water flowing from veins ripped open by the world. It falls on the grass and makes words grow like tress and bear music.

It falls on grass and make words grow like tress and bear music.

She is what people call a muse.

In this world that I’ve made up in my head, where lions escort us through the wilderness of harsh and bitter reality, I am constantly reminded of how undeserving I am of the beauty that she inspires. Is she a memory, a meeting of the earth and sky? Am I in love? Is this what it feels like?

where lions escort us through the wilderness of harsh and bitter reality

Published by

Stefan

I am a college student, studying in India. I'm a musician and I love to write, be on stage, and meet people. My blogs are about looking at life from a new perspective. I try to talk about the things we all sometimes miss out on.

3 thoughts on “Muse”

    1. Yes, it is definitely confusing. That’s something I’d love to explore. How love and admiration can be exclusive when it comes to muses

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s