Mused – Bemused

” I sung of chaos and eternal night, Taught by the heav’nly Muse to venture down the dark decent, and up to reascend… “

John Milton, Paradise Lost

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, feeding the rivulets of chaos and calm streaming out from the glaciers of my mind, keeping me sane amidst the insanity I was surrounded by.
To me she wasn’t ordinary, for I hadn’t met anyone who would go onto stir my soul, connect deep and liberate it from the clutches of desires holding it down.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, for I hadn’t been left mused, amused and bemused by anyone as such, capturing her impression was and is beyond words that can be confined by mere expression. She was the embodiment of grace and rage. I was blessed to have been in her good graces.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, for all the light then, and shadows now are hers. The capacity of my mind, and now the incapacity of my soul to seek and find the traces of whatever I am left with is hers, doing-undoing, tying-untying and all the knots that remain, the strings holding it has an invisible pull that drew it’s source from her presence then, and absence now.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, enabling and paralyzing the flight of my thoughts. She, the life and the dance of death too, the life source of all that remains in me and the terminal of all things beautiful my senses can proclaim. She, the crest and She, the trough.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, the heavens I tread upon and the hell of fire I walked into. The culmination of bright and dull, all that I am and without. She, the dawn then, the dusk now and She, my endless twilight.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, She; the manifestation of the prose I read then, the central theme of the poetry I read now. She, the ideas my mind can conceive and the feelings my heart can deceive. She, my everything then and in all my nothings now, nothings that mean everything, the threshold of both merging into her.

She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be, She; the abyss and the zion. She, the remnant of all that shall remain. She, the remainder and the only blissful reminder.

She, my ascend and the descent. She, the muse and the art. The light, the shadow. All things good, bright and beautiful. Absent but present; transient She isn’t. She was my heavenly muse, still is and shall forever be.

“Heaven’s last best gift, my ever new delight.”