9.16.2009

Baci n. 42

It is hard to say where inspiration comes from, because it comes from everywhere and anywhere at anytime. The trial of the writer, or any artist, is to be ready when the muse strikes; to be open to the idea presented.

Sometimes Inspiration couples with the Muse, and such moments an artist lives for. We rarely feel so alive as when Inspiration and the Muse are in the throes of passion. The rest of the world ceases to exist for a while, and we might as well be as the prophets in "Heroes" for all the attention we pay the world. It is the strongest drug; and it is a drug with no proveyers; no way way to find an easy fix; the only redemption in fulfillment of the dictates of the Brain-child.

More often than not, however; we will be struck by one or the other; Muse or Inspiration. These, though lesser drugs, are enough to carry us; an oasis in the desert as we search for Shangri-La. We must ever be ready to take advantage of these moments, whether they are addressing new projects and new ideas, or simply moving our current project to its next phase. The time can be great between the Inspiration of an idea, and the fruition brought by the Muse, and though there is a real satisfaction in finishing any project; no matter how proud and happy we are of such finished works; we pine for the True Child, the Artist's Messiah; Born of the God Inspiration and Mary the Muse.

The last two posts were such True Children; but we love all of our children, so I will leave you with "Baci n. 42," a child whose Muse lived long before it's Inspiration, and a fitting piece with all of this talk of the Muse. With no further ado:

Baci n. 42
“With your kisses have I painted my starry sky.”
Anonimo


I was lost and lonely til I found her;
An aimless wanderer in search of love,
Thinking that I knew just what it should be.
Homeless, I traveled following my heart,
Guided by the moment and wayward thought
And chasing an ever elusive dream.

But then she came to me as if a dream
Filling my head with bold visions of her
And stole my breath far beyond any thought.
She granted me her favour, which is love,
And awakened me to the depth of my heart
Showing me just what I was meant to be.

Yet knowing that, knew not how I should be;
Out on the ocean as if in a dream
Aching to do what I felt in my heart.
So here I am, filled with whispers of her,
And I'm coasting on the currents of love
Driven to pursue the most fleeting thought.

She is the fuel behind every thought
And see now the visions of what should be,
How my stories will fill the sky with love.
I sail now in an ever waking dream
And in each is a star born of her
As I seek the wind with all of my heart.

Tis with my pen that I follow my heart
Watching each moment pass as a brief thought
Bringing all of my soul in line with her.
My pen, as sextant, shows where I should be
And I leave behind the words of a dream
Guided by her favour; her thrice blessed love.

Her favours are kisses; my stories her love;
And I willingly go with all of my heart
Receiving them; welcome as any dream.
Such kisses are inspiration's true thought
Encompassing all that I will e'er be
Because out on the sea, I am with her.

I am lost in her, filled, now, with her love;
As well it should be. She has kissed my heart
Giving birth to thought and a star filled dream.

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