The Muse

She arrives without making a noise while I am in bed falling into that odd place that exists between dreams and wide awake. The first thing she does, the only thing that announces her presence is her hands suddenly on my temples and her thumbs on my eyelids reminding me it is forbidden to open my eyes while she lingers. She brings with her moonlight fires, I see her sparkle through my closed eyelids summoning the shy spirits who are protected from sight by the night. Like a pantomime projected in a wall they mimic strange tales, the mantras of life, they bring them alive, all for my delight; their gestures are weighted, measured, precise. They cast the spells. She seduces me with the rare perfumes of the cosmos. She keeps me alive with scents and with whispered words on my mind: the Muse, she comes quietly, unannounced every time.