My Muse

There was upon a time a muse so tall and hansome, so sweet and loving...and yet he stole my inspiration. The river that once was rich in ideas, became as dry as the desert. For years I walked in that desert, the absentism of poetry and art was more painful than the lack of love itself.

Then I met another muse, in a lonely night, in the middle of nowhere. Not as handsome. Not as loving, not as caring. Just as tall, selfish and unkind. In a wierd magical way, this second muse has returned the water to the fountain. Now a never ending cascade of words and ideas are pouring out from my mind to the paper, despite or perhaps because of the pain.