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.

 

 

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