I have been struck by my Muse, and as is most often the case, she was not kind of it. Rarely is her appearance accompanied with a caress or a kiss, but more often with a kick between the knees or a bite on the lip strong enough to draw blood. In this case, it is one of her cruel kisses that drove me from my slumber and here to the blank page that is no page at all, but invisible signals made by magnetics and electricity. To here my Muse has driven me. And to here, I must serve her most cruel kisses.
True it is that she came to me in a dream, draped only in smoke and fire, her naked body inspiring both my imagination and something far less noble. She came to me, giving to me what she knew I needed most. For a Muse who carries any other banner other than one that declares “Truth Above All!” carries nothing but Falsehood dressed up in corsets and pettycoats, no matter how alluring, that distract the Author from his first and most noble duty.
Truth.
Beauty.
Freedom.
And, above all, Love.
Stolen words, I admit, but while I am guilty of theft, I cannot be guilty of Falsehood, for such words cannot be sullied with such skullduggery. What they speak is too far grand, too close to all our hearts to be deafened by any clamor or alarum that would seek to hide them from eyes that would see.
Are my eyes willing to see? Are my ears willing to hear? Is my tongue willing to taste? Is my mouth willing to sing?
And is my heart willing to love?
There is no risk greater than love. No sword can so pierce a man’s heart. No wound can so undo him. Nothing can whisk him quicker to the grave than love.
And so then, why do we chase it? Why do I chase it?
Because without love, the world is nothing but mud and shit. From it, we came. To it, we return.
And in the moments between that innevitable beginning and end, we have a chance to know love. Perhaps only once. Perhaps only twice. But we have a chance.
And is it worth it? This thing that hastens us toward our end? This thing that makes us fools, that empties our pockets and pilfers our dreams and makes us gibbering children, drooling and stooping and laughing like fools?
Is this thing that we so seek, with every atom in our bodies, every iota of our souls, every single waking moment of our thoughts, is this thing that we desire… is it worth the moments of bliss in exchange for all it demands?
Is it?
No. It most certainly is not.
But without it, the world is nothing but mud and shit. And if love may lift us even an inch above all that, if even for a moment…
… if it reminds us that while the world is what it is… that we are not alone in it…
… then perhaps it is.