Muse

In the sacred channel that divides the id and ego, yin and yang, I ply my notes.
In the nameless recess between sleep and dream, I undulate.
So it is in a space where no one walks or discourses.
Useless to seek me.
I will not respond.
I will not hear.
There is only the voice within ordering my minutes, minutia, manners, memorabilia,
and me following.