Muse

Rapidly death’s silhouette unfurls throughout my mind.
Here in this muddled web of uncertainty will I find
She who’s never worn the world that I must leave behind.
Will I grasp Her before my death.

I feel Her in the forest, I see Her in the skies;
unbound, unchained, unchivalrous She blinds my staring eyes.
Astounded I am certain, I must catch Her with my cries.
But will She hear me ‘ere my death?

Time quickens in the shadow of the pomegranate tree,
with wild flower blossoms that no mortal eye can see.
I’ll wait beside the everglade that exhales Her melody,
and shall hear it till my death.

– Intuitive Ginger

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