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Meeting My Muse


It is late Thursday afternoon. The chairs are empty and the hills are quiet. I like this familiar space I had once lived in- breathing words to life, one day at a time. 

He sits across me today. On this warm afternoon. We are meeting for the first time. In a room lit by sunlight. Traces of a working day still visible. And his energy for life, infectious. 

I instantly think of happiness. It seeps into my being. Like the sweetness of Autumn flowers that fill the season. The blossoms may fade- like everything else- but they always live their time, leaving a lasting impact.

It's odd that I am sitting here with you, thinking of life as the most precious thing. And in between words that sum up our pasts, it feels like home - just as they say, home is people, not a place. 

I relish the tea, the talks, the laughter- this very moment, sparking with inspiration. 

Then I knew I have met my Muse. The one, who opened up a whole new world of books, for me. And now I see a world of infinite possibilities. All my little dreams gleaming; possibly taking a new flight.  

Every breath, colour, and emotion; they carry the spark you have ignited since. Because of you, I love words even more. Now.

Everything I can see or imagine- the azure blue sky, the trees swayed by mild winds, the misty mountains, the fields far away, the pretty sunsets, the sweetness of rain, the lush green earth, the splendor of the moon, the kindness of a stranger, the innocence of a child, the loneliness of a man; or perhaps a home of a loving family in the meadows. The dream of a young girl, or of stars that light up the winter sky; and several other imaginations that  don't find mention here- my Muse inspires me to put words to things. Beautiful (or sometimes intricate) things that exist in this world.    

I am smitten. As fallen leaves are, by the last rays of the sun. And quite frankly, there's  nothing else I'd rather be doing. Than to exist here. With my Muse. Reveling in life. 


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