There are artists who have found their muse.
Those who have lost her.
And those who spend a lifetime searching.
Sometimes I imagine the Muses gathering together, laughing at our endless attempts to chase them.
One day they whisper in your ear.
The next, they disappear without a trace, leaving you questioning whether they were ever there at all.
Perhaps inspiration was never meant to be possessed.
Only visited.
And honestly, I don't mind.
They are too beautiful.
If they choose to haunt me, abandon me, or return without warning,
they may do whatever they wish with me.
