‘Intimations of Immortality’


I listened for the Muse,
But only heard her hum….
I was hoping for the lost chord
But all I got was a strum…

Inspiration is not a sensation
Nor is it a thought,
It’s a movement of the spirit
That can’t be conjured
Much less bought….

Creation is not contrivance
Nor is art mere artifice
It requires a higher power
To break the mental ice…
So the vessel of words
Can sail thru once or twice…

Words are not like paints
That dry and become set
Mad Picasso once raided the Louvre
Muttering ‘I’m not done yet’
Adding to his ‘masterpiece’ to no avail
Only to be carted off to jail…

There is power in plasticity
A shape shifter gathers no dust
But while words can be flexible
Meaning is a must

And so I am still as a mouse
Hoping the still small voice
Will enter my house
And I will feel his breath
Bringing life, not death…
And the joy and delight
Of unexpected insight

For all real script
Is God-breathed
So shall we transcend ourselves?
And of mere mortality be relieved?

BW3 2-14-14

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