The Muses - revisiting a post from 2010

The ancient Greeks believed that artists were guided by a group of beautiful spirits called the Muses. They led the poet and the singer down the path of creativity toward their creations. I think there’s something to that. After all where do these ideas come from that end up giving us stories and songs and poetry?

I believe I have two muses.

One has silky long black hair and a smile that sparkles brighter than the morning star. She whispers in my ear. Her breath sends shivers of pleasure through my entire body. She holds my hand and sings quietly, sometimes murmuring sounds of love and tenderness that words cannot easily express. We walk together, smiling and she points to things of beauty that I otherwise may not have noticed. But she has inner strength that encourages her to dive through the clouds, opening her parachute at only the last minute. She is able to run with wolves as if they were her family, to swim with sharks without showing fear. I don't know how she does it, I think she has them all hypnotised.

Her rival is quite the opposite. A rather gabby individual and seldom soft or quiet. Her hair is also black and shiny but is tied back tight and ends in a pony tail that bounces and snaps like a whip when she moves her head. She doesn't sparkle, she pops. Sitting still for a photo might catch her in what seems like a moment of motionlessness, but only if the shutter speed is set to very fast. She vibrates with energy, constantly talking and jabbering and tossing ideas into my brain pot at such a rate that I can barely digest one before the next comes barreling in. Perky is a word that might describe her…. or caffeinated. If you want a wild night...or an exhausting weekend ... of creating, touching, travelling through and tasting the forest, seeing the music, grasping the stars, exploding with sensory overload, all the pain, all the pleasure of an orgasm of fully lived life...she's the one to go with. But don't expect to be many steps beyond the grave at the end of the weekend. Only the strong and brave need apply.

Those two are my muses. Equal in beauty, power, and strength but mostly not compatible.

Mercifully the two seldom appear at the same time.

They are, as it happens, rather abrasive toward one another when they are together.

The poetess starts making vulgar rhymes and the perky one ends up slapping her.

But they are both very hot.

They are sultry and sexy and drive me crazy.

And I quite enjoy both of their company.

So here I am. Living dangerously in psychological polygamy.

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