the blue muse

So I am walking down this path, or running, whatever the case may be, and where exactly do I’m think I’m going?

I see side shoots, tributaries, distractions, possibilities: all waving at me, vying for my attention. Some of them get it, some, not so much. I end up traveling in circles. The earth is round, but still, you can only walk around it in a line.

I am blue and purple when I want to be golden, and this tree that towers over me is keeping me in shadow. I see edges of light, this bokeh in my vision, dappled spots of happiness that flit in and about as the breeze moves through these branches, this forest, my world.

I have been here before, in this spot where I stand, gazing out at the edge of horizon. I have not taken root but returned of my own volition.

I am here. The next step matters. The path, imperative. Decisions, decisions…

I travel alone, or in the company of friends, and either way, my feet get tired. My knees ache, these blisters form. I look up at the moon because I hear her, whispering my name. She only ever whispers though, when what I crave is a scream. At least that is what I think I crave, I might be surprised if her voice went howling through the sky, and run for cover. I might cower.

And the sun, yes, it warms me, fills my heart with hope and vision. But it sets every day and I wonder what I saw. What I really, really saw. Just out of the corner of my eye there is movement. Peripheral. The shadow of my horizon come forth to take my hand.

The gesture is extended. But I am frozen, frozen in this sea

of purple, blue and green when what I really want

is to be golden.