(Helga by Andrew Wyeth)  Flickr/Gandalf’s Gallery

My Muse

You don’t know I look at you

…the way I do

In wonderment; in yearning

Those eyes, dark and hidden

Depths so deep, I cannot find my way

My way to you

Closeted, kept under key

Safe from temptation, keeping all others out

Keeping me out

It does not stop me

From gazing upon your face

Taking in the light of God, it seems

“How can one be so perfected in such an imperfect world?” I wonder.

“I am not perfect…far from perfect,” You lament

I do not question the beating of my heart,  the weakening of my knees, or the illusory of my thoughts

I never knew there was such things…until you

Don’t berate me for longing, perfecting you with the paint fresh upon my canvas

Many things you have inspired

Immortal shall I make you

Unattainable by all; unattainable by me

You are all the person I have come to know, the lover I yearn for, the friend I need

Not just of lust, or the forbidden, but of the veiled attachment

Uniting the separated; completing the unfinished

Inspiring the creativity that resides in the essence of my being

The place where my soul resides

And where my love is imprisoned

Forever condemned to my musings

Released, bleeding ink upon parchment