She wasn't a muse, only a messenger to seduce me deeper in. In to the core of something larger than just myself is where she beckoned. She had me convinced that I am called to right. If only I could break free of this cocoon, a chrysalis of contemplation; then I could right.
I thought I had found someone to be larger with. It seems that this one only wanted to be made larger by downsizing others. I couldn't compete and only became more victimized more mesmerized less super-sized, only patronized. I became embroiled in a war of roses and found it not too cool. I stopped laughing and started crying. I became vindictive. I couldn't get the pain to stop. I didn't have the strength to leave. No relationship with self is a sin and a relationship with another - a crime under these precepts. My powers have been syphoned leaving a shrivelled zombie shell that paces alone in a dark room - not knowing where it belongs or what it is meant to do.
Now I will listen and right.
Right an Epic mythology. Change my name to GILGAMESH perhaps and flood the world with my Tears bringing fertility and forgetfulness of winter.
My hands are my Pen. My Mind the Binding. My life the pages. Stages are chapters and Spirit illustrations abound throughout.
The story will have laughter and hot chicks kicking with Kung-Fu priests. Rock bands in Walmart and disco balls for sale. Playgrounds in Museums - Picasso inside the hamster tubes. Secret agents fighting blatant evil where the good guy wins. It is not idealistic. There is treachery, Dishonor and Tragedy. Mistrust is an Idol to topple-to test our strengths. Robots to ensure we maintain human compassion. The laws of prosperity are simple; yet the patterns they create are complex. To Break them is to weave a self entangling web that draws ever closer. Can we call a magical sword at will?
It will be a Play, a Rock-Opera. All of you are in it. A High Fantasy of Orcs and Pigs. Animalized Characters with some riding on chariots of clouds, others with giant carven masks like Dark Shields of Ego. It's a quest for the Shakti. I am green with 4 arms. I wield a Vajra of Perfect Balance emanating colors. Ever changing images ride across my skin and mind.
Thoughts are a physical force which can interact and permeate, Collide and contort with other thoughts as beams of light. They later become form and their paths are Plot-able. Map-able. No Tom-Tom required, these are ancient and form the support strands of the Weird through dry-ice fog and a frenzy of fire-flies. Truth rides the gossamer wings of the winds as pollen clings to a bees knees.
Heroes stride with confidence dripping from their skin like heavy spring raindrops amongst the mortals. Acts of Jumping , Drumming, Dancing and various movements cause physical effects ranging from trees-uprooting, dervishes of leaves, parting waves, erupting volcanoes, eclipses and animals taking flight.
There will be no inter-mission. It will begin in the middle as Homer did. Then end- full circle. My Vader breath the climax of life long driving to completion. And She will be there, Smiling, waiting. Knowing I would come when my work was done.