Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The Muse At Rest

She lay on the bed, her gown strewn lazily over her chest.  Her breath rose rhythmically as her nostrils took in the warm summer air.

She’d been asleep for a while now.  Sure, I’d go stir her every so often in order to avoid the near-catastrophe I encountered a year and a half ago when my apathy nearly killed her, but I mostly let her rest.

My Muse hasn’t been too active as of late, and that has been by design.  The projects she worked with me on now need their own time to rise, and her constantly whispering into my ear would be distracting.  That was a distraction I simply couldn’t afford at the moment.

Still, every once in a while, I just liked to sit here and watch her.  Part of it was to make sure she was still with me; I nearly lost her once, and even that memory brought on chills.  The other part of me was to just appreciate her beauty.  My Muse was there for me in the darkest of times, nudging me towards certain paths in ways even I was unaware of.

Of course, I couldn’t let her sleep too long.  She might slip into a coma if I did, and that’d be as bad as her disappearance last year.  No, she needed to stay just active enough that she’d be there when I needed her.  Even rousing her from time to time wouldn’t brush off all of the cobwebs when I really needed her, but it would make the process much easier.

So I watched as she snoozed, a soft smile still on her lips.  This wondrous masterpiece served as an outlet for me, so I let her rest…for now.

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