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Musings of an Artist

Musings of an Artist

It is late at night and all is asleep,
All but me for sleep does not come easily
To the starving, tortured artist.

What shall I paint? What shall I write? What shall I play?
To what shall I dance? To what shall I act out?
With what shall I place on this blank canvas before me?
My hands absentmindedly run over the pens and pencils,
The paintbrushes, the violin, the bow, the maps,
The different instruments at my disposal.

And then eureka, it came upon me,
To call upon the Muses of old Grecian legends,
The daughters of the god Zeus and the Titaness Mnemosyne,
Pupils of the god Apollo,
Women of divine beauty who inspire beauty of all forms.

I call upon thee, Calliope, ‘O Muse of epic poetry,
She who holds the writing tablet and stylus,
She whose voice holds an ecstatic harmony.
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A story like no other,
Of far-off places, daring sword fights,
Magic spells, a prince in disguise,
Of epic heroes on epic quests,
Those who prevail above horrendous monsters,
And their own inner demons.

I call upon thee, Clio, ‘O Muse of history,
She who holds the scroll, book, and laurel wreath,
She who proclaims, glorifies, and celebrates history,
Great deeds, and accomplishments.
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A recount like no other,
Of war victories and political breakthroughs,
Of pioneers and innovators,
Of great empires and cultural evolutions.

I call upon thee, Euterpe, ‘O Muse of music and song,
She who holds the aulos and panpipes,
She who gives delight,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A song like no other,
Of melodious and harmonious euphony,
Of an emotional assemblage,
Of sweet tunes that lifts the soul and buries the darkness,
From any genre, I shall sing and play it,
With a voice that carries far,
And strings that vibrate upon the touch of a bow.

I call upon thee, Erato, ‘O Muse of love poetry,
She who holds the cithara,
She who charms the sight,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A love like no other,
A great love of passion and commitment,
To which I could make art out of,
A love so colourful, I cannot recall what shadows are,
One so powerful and deep, it’ll make angels burn with envy.

I call upon thee, Melpomene, ‘O Muse of tragedy,
She who holds the tragic mask, sword, club, and cothurnos,
She who brings about tears of sorrow to her human children,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A tragedy like no other,
Of heroes with downfalls,
Of losses of innocence,
Of death and destruction,
With a Red Sea of spilt blood and pain,
Where mourning is the norm and night reigns forevermore.

I call upon thee, Polyhymnia, ‘O Muse of hymns,
She who holds the veil and grapes,
She, the very depiction of solemnness and pensiveness,
Who glides through this world with the utmost eloquence,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A hymn like no other,
One to praise the deities,
To proclaim my adoration for them,
Another to peacefully pray in times of trouble and turmoil.

I call upon thee, Terpsichore, ‘O Muse of dance,
She who holds the lyre and plectrum,
She who mothered the Sirens, liberal arts, and fine arts,
Who entertained the gods on Mount Olympus,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A dance like no other,
One that allows me to interpret my heart with my body,
I will be a weaver of physical movements,
My physique, the needle,
The stage, my tapestry,
Give me the strength to move to my heart’s content,
To lure awe from my audience as they watch,
Let their eyes move with me as I leap across my platform.

I call upon thee, Thalia, ‘O Muse of comedy,
She who holds the comic mask and ivy wreath,
She who brings forth tears of mirth to her loving worshippers,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A comedy like no other,
One that will fill the viewer with hearty laughter,
Momentarily erasing what fears, distress, and misfortune,
They may possess.
Give me a reason to draw out hilarity so organic,
It will drive away what inhibitions I may hold within.

I call upon thee, Urania, ‘O Muse of astronomy,
She who holds the globe and compass,
She who lifts men’s souls to heavenly heights,
I beg of thee to grant thy loyal servant,
A philosophy like no other,
An open mind and an open heart,
To see the stars and celestial bodies and beyond,
Please give me guidance and assistance,
In the navigation of my mind.
What doth the position of the stars say?
Of what news do the constellations bring?
Tell me this and more,
And I shall never forget your wisdom.

Dawn has arrived,
And the sun is waking from its slumber,
My eyes are heavy but my mind is racing,
My prayers have been answered for bless me,
I have found a brilliant, new idea,
My heart yearns to share its knowledge with the world.

The rooster crows and the birds chirp and sing,
I scan the horizons and drink in the sheer magnificence around me,
With a stretch and a yawn, I bleed out ink and songs,
Filling papers upon papers with evidence of my imagination.

The Passing is the Only Thing That Will Stay

The Passing is the Only Thing That Will Stay