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Apr 2012
I.             He walked along the courtyard of his dreams, thoughts, falling to the ground brushing against his feet; dissolving into the rain soaked earth never to breathe again. He, in anguish called upon the Muse- “Seek her and she will come”- he whispered softly. The cobwebbed images of lost despair sent chills throughout his body making his mind tremble under the starry night; until the sweet siren of serenading song echoed against the wind rippling the inviting water which lay silently underneath the bridge. There she glowed in all her majestic innocence, the Muse of Time.

II.            He gazed towards her in captivating disbelief. Hair, falling gracefully down her back longer than winter nights, eyes which swam inside the moonlight stabbing his every thought. She stood there in naked silence enchanting him with every glimmer of her smile. As his eyes peered deeper he noticed what she held. In her left hand ink and in her right paint. She spoke with the faintest sound and said -“Choose one”- he reached into her left hand and immersed his hand into the depths of her ink and felt the exhilaration of concentrated thought.

III.         He spoke not a word as his mind  was pierced with eternal light.He could not  hear or see anything but the mesmerizing silhouette of his mystical Muse. As she finally let go of his hand she spoke once again and lastly muttered- “Time swallows us all so listen closely to yours”- as he regained his sight all that was left was the trailing vision…The shadow of the Muse.
Ryan Jones
Written by
Ryan Jones
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