The Muse of the Ivory Tower

She returns to me, but in a different form. She has changed, she has been refined. Our angelic Muse of thought and inspiration still is with a gentle touch of soft, supple ideas; the effulgent glow of new thoughts; of paradigm shifts. Yet with her gentle contours gone, she comes in greater fury and with greater purpose. She has a harder edge that comes with knowledge gained and perspectives broadened. The lattice gold armor that adorns her has sharpness that cuts and barbs of creativity that pierce the touch. She is mounting up for new pursuits across new horizons. She is being reborn under the weight of borne ideas. She is still so mercurial, so hard to hold onto. I feel her come, and her warmth envelopes me. I feel her go, as I struggle to get her on my page. As always, she leaves me staring into the oblivion of a blank, pallid page. She wrestles herself away from me, leaving me with something that barely reflects her initial splendor, yet leaves me satisfied nonetheless.