My Poem “A Poet and Their Muse”

It is not as easy
as some people might think
to imagine something from nothing
as fast as it takes
for someone to blink…
even for those people
who are skilled at improvisation,
the ability to be able to
come up with something on the spot
is a miraculous gift of inspiration…
unless you know someone or something well
then it is almost impossible
to create an expose about them
without first spending some time
with a particular person or thing
and observing everything about them –
from the way that they talk,
to the way that they look,
to the way that they listen,
to the way that they move…
and unless you ask questions
and get answers then no one
can know anyone, nor anything,
nor find out how, nor why,
they do what they do.

How does a painter paint?
How does a writer write?
How does a human being
or an animal live and breathe?
And the answer to all those
questions is the same:
simply by doing so –
because creativity,
like most facets of instinct,
is involuntary,
and it is done first and foremost
without any thought of personal gain.

Artists create art because they must…
sometimes there is more to say
about something old than
there is about something new…
there is something more interesting
about finding out how, why, when,
and where something emerged
into this world as a result
of a specific converge and configuration
of cosmic dust that had to occur.

Artists can describe an idea,
a thought, a piece of art
that they have originated –
but, in all honesty,
no artist could ever
accurately tell you
where, when, why,
nor how they are able
to do all that they do,
because the sharing of inspiration
from the source to the artist
is a language that is only known
by a poet and their muse. 

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