it is not
what you write
It is how
I read you

--


My ritual is underpinned with a
Delighted focus - gleeful rapture,
A certain incredulous examination
Near exultant, rhapsodic
Illumination

--

I also have something else hovering about which I shall more than likely turn into a short story, which is already taking structure. If I even think of any part of it, other areas clarify and develop - it's almost as if I have nothing to do with it, or if I'm remembering a dream, or perhaps... I don't know, someone else's memory. The funny thing is that I know that this piece of writing will have an extraordinary structure, something very strange.

Oh fuck. It has just meshed with an idea that I had months ago, a deep, intimate kind of exploration that I couldn't figure out how to approach. I wrote several drafts which never seemed to be quite right, although I hoped at the time that they were.

And now I have the key to it, and it was as simple as a line from a message.

Bravo, muse.