I’m searching. Searching for my muse.

Where has she been? What has she been doing?

She is the one who started it all.

The one who gave me the desire to write. To put my mind to work.

I miss my muse.

She gave me pain. She gave me pleasure.

Passion

“What is your passion?” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Those were the words. The words that inspired.  I don’t know if I’ve made it clear.

When I lost my muse, I lost the passion.

I found it inside.  It is still there. It is hiding.

Wanting?

It wants a muse to spur the awakening.

I asked to hire them as my muse. Just so I could communicate with them. It’s been so long.

I don’t need to hire a muse. A muse doesn’t need to know. They don’t need to know the works they inspire.

Those works, once completed, they may finally see. That I always had the passion. The passion is all about me.