Be-Mused Musings

A freefallen thought caught in the wave length of mind-
Spotted and stripped and clawed at but not yet ready to shine.

What be-mused writings/urges force these words from my pen but the most carnal of heart held desires-
The pleasure derived from self expression.

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Take this from me and I shall wilt and rot from the inside out like the tortured bloom on the unending vine-
Imprisoned in the darkest basement far from her shining sun.

I am not meant to be in a world without art-
Be it paint, prose, music, or thunder.

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Moon night and moon day, say a soft prayer for the weeping-
Though their tears fall unappreciated to those they are given to:

The father with no time for his son-
And the mother who drinks before her daughter.

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Both damning the next generation in one way-
But providing fodder for the be-mused in another.

Even tears must have their uses-
After all.

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