9 days
the birth of the Muses (creativity blooms in the ego’s ash)
you brought the weather with you a stormy dark cloud days of rain before the collision you found me nearly drowned conversation nearing an hour we savoured all the intrigue there was no urgency to devour no surge for the peak a coaxing lure to power neither with a disposition to cower; veiled names at bay our very first play as we, dark clouds, collided the real-world ones divided and so began the stolen days from gods and titans 9 days of sun 9 days of serenity 9 days of questioning the edges of my identity i look for meaning in everything every little moment confirmation bias in the world makes my intuition feel potent so as goodbye loomed on our final day and the sunny skies returned to bleak grey later that evening, i was not amazed when down again came the rain i shouldn’t be so dramatic my search for meaning so erratic shouldn’t find that brooding skies coinciding with goodbyes is any more than deluded decay deriving from a frivolous fray foreplay found in the folly of it all we had a kiss goodbye; but you slipped a final truth about yourself one that made me look you in the eye i saw a glimpse a reassurance something i already knew; you forage around looking for meaning in mere mediocrity too so from an unreliable narrator who conjures meaning from abyss i’ll leave you with our final anecdote - one i refuse to dismiss; the god of storms and father of all collided with the goddess of language and memory and in 9 days of masked seduction they created a poetic treasury in 9 days Zeus and Mnemosyne created the 9 Muses; the foundation of the arts the origin of inspiration the birth of all creative fixation and though they were revered though they were exalted none of them were named Salted