My Thoughts Blessed By Yours
What muse abides me,
sits quietly advising this silent process,
this cerebral rotation of gleaned truths,
and how is it this mind aligns with thee,
some tryst of fate, some eventuality
of my own thoughts blessed by yours?
So often addressed as woman,
a feminine touch to inspire words,
but for me the anomalous guidance
is without gender, absurd to attribute
any human trait,
for it’s not inspiration that I need.
This muse, this flowing promised state,
is but my connection, my fate
in a writer’s shell, and my muse a river,
not a soul, where words are mine
to save and bring to life.
Taught me well, no doubt,
to be open enough to align with rivers,
and skill I bring to hone those words,
make them sing a song
that is attuned to eyes that read,
to feed upon the outpouring.
Perhaps it is I who abide the muse,
learned to touch its flowing,
arrest the swell and in compromise
hold words to spill their meanings,
and immersed I am in the process,
wet feet and a warm heart.
Whatever view,
I am blessed with my connection,
it never fails, always on hand
at my command of words to spin
the webs I weave and truths to bring clarity
to others who may read.
The river is endless,
filled with infinite providence,
and I in respect and a reverent knowing,
praise its place in a writer’s life,
a wisdom gleaned, a beauteous scene
all given in heart, to a soul accepting.
What muse abides me,
sits quietly advising this silent process,
this cerebral rotation of gleaned truths,
as my mind aligns with thee,
a tryst of fate, an eventuality
of my own thoughts blessed by yours.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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