The power of a muse

I have always wondered about the power of the muse. From the mystical holders and molders of the art of great musicians, writers and artists to the faded memory that forces a creative piece whenever it comes to mind. I had one for a very short time...a very confusing experience. I wasn't sure if I should name her a muse because to me the name somehow if mouthed would dirty the purity of the delegation. The thought of it and her in that way I guess empowered her even more. If poetry born of it is any indication. Anyway I wondered if I should call her that and her denying that she was and insisting that others would come when the connection broke between us didn't help anything. Robert Graves an English poet described the concept of the muse and the relation to the poet in this way...

"No Muse-poet grows conscious of the Muse except by experience of a woman in whom the Goddess is to some degree resident; just as no Apollonian poet can perform his proper function unless he lives under a monarchy or a quasi-monarchy. A Muse-poet falls in love, absolutely, and his true love is for him the embodiment of the Muse...
But the real, perpetually obsessed Muse-poet distinguishes between the Goddess as manifest in the supreme power, glory, wisdom, and love of woman, and the individual woman whom the Goddess may make her instrument...
The Goddess abides; and perhaps he will again have knowledge of her through his experience of another woman..

I have fallen in love completely and she was my muse. I did however see the spirit in her more than anything else. The differentiation of the Goddessness (if you would allow me that word) in her every word, smile, or movement was evident to me. It was the way our conversation silent or oral would create a new language within itself. She had something...something unearthly, that took me to a different and completely strange place, yet so deeply rooted in my own self that it was impossible to deny. Saying that now I realize that it may sound a bit egocentric, but it is the truth. I felt proud on recognition that this powerful spirit would touch my life and deeply depressed when I realised that it refused to be "captured".

I have not yet been able to let it go completely and I have to say that I am still waiting for the other one and have not written anything of real value since then. I've started to think that like "true love" a greatly inspiring muse is something that u happen upon once in this life. In the end however I settled that I would in fact call her that because that is what she was. I know that because thinking of her while talking to a friend, this came out.....

EXCERPT OF A CONVERSATION: THE MUSE


muse

…is the embodiment of inspiration
a good morning makes me over spill with first born words for poets
waiting to be molded
her touch plants
new sounds in my skin and kisses
water each one
her breath moves them in sway taking me
into her, into me, into us
somewhere between me and my muse
new language would be born
without trying
the thought
of a memory
of something that has not happened,
may not happen should stay with me forever
unchanging.

That is in fact as far as I'm concerned the power of a muse. Such difficult things to grab a hold of.