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Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.


Monday, March 12, 2007

Because I'm Told to Do So

In the comments on another post I talked about the Muse being slightly upset with me. I must have been a good boy because she just dropped an interesting story bone in my head. Yes. Dark, foreboding, like that dream where you're trying to get someplace and just can't seem to get there. All of it. He he he. Yes, my darling, I'm listening, it is written down. From the ash bed stirs the flame waiting for tinder to ignite.

2 comments:

Todd Wheeler said...

Nice muse. If she starts writing honey-do lists though ... Just saying, stay away from the DIY home centers. ;-)

Steve Buchheit said...

She does that as well. Oh, wait, that's my wife whispering in my ear while I'm asleep. :)

The only "honey-do"s the muse give me are, "Why the (explicative) aren't your writing this story." And then the guilt trip starts. The huffing, the toe tapping, the stares, all until I get it out on paper.