Sometimes’s someone energy can inspire words to flow with the power of Niagara’s Falls. Washing away self-doubt and letting clarity run through your veins. Some call these muses because such beauty is rarely seen in nature. These special beings seemed as if carved from the most skilled carpenters hands, and blessed with those intrinsic values that inspired the poets of yesteryears. Sometimes you find a muse in the strangest place. You can’t seek out a muse- the world seeks one out for you. Mine came from an enchanted forest in a foreign land. A mystic with an elf like joy that cleansed the anger in my soul. With fresh eyes, and a new found clarity the words came back. I realized the sadness that once fueled the pen to paper was bound to flame out like the joy that a simple sparkler gave as the child grows old. The simplicity of that emotion turns to ash as joy now brings the fireworks rocketing to touch the top of the clouds. You can’t control a muse- their whimsical nature leads to a choose your own adventure novel where the ending is never known. Just like the passion they install in you will lead your inspiration on the paper til your fingers bleed truth. A muse is dynamite- it will eventually explode. It is the artist’s duty to ride the ripples to bring such beauty to the audience. A muse is a gift and a curse- just like writing is. Feeling too much can destroy someone so they can inspire many. My words bleed so you can weep with joy. My muse changed my perception so my words can change yours.
Patrick Bernard 
That took me to a different place.
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