“To My Muse” (A Poem)

I do not ask,

And yet, you give freely.

As you receive,

You do so willingly.

And the dance we share

gives her nourishment

and the Muse his inspiration.

We fill each other’s cup

back and forth,

an improvised act of kindness

of a shared language

only we speak.

And at the end of the night,

I must wonder…

who is feeding whom?

Aren’t we both filled with hunger?

For the art of creation

comes when the Muse

becomes the Artist.

And I can see him…


This is just the beginning.

By Leslie I. Benson | Photo by Andy from Pexels

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