Why We Must Free the Muse
And Unlock the Creative Block

It’s become an obsessive haunt. Surely not a burdensome one but rather beloved and I am propelled to it every moment I’m awake, and every moment away from it is an infliction. It even intrudes my sleep but with pleasant greeting, lulling me to ramble in my dreams, concoct the unseen. It’s clearly madness. I know this.
I want to caress my thoughts, I want to blow them like dust from my hand and release them onto paper and I want to marvel in the shapes they create. Like a pool of soft, cool clouds.
I’m surprised by what is revealed because I am only the vessel.
I must remind myself over and over again that I am only the vessel of these entities that have no beginning or end, or no rhyme or reason until I step back and realize there is vast serendipity and intention that I did not intend.
Because, yet again, I am only the vessel.
If you like, show some 💜.

