the muse is gone. it has dissolved. the thickness of its substance thinned out and diluted. transparent now what was opaque. what once seemed dense and heavy is now light and airy. the wind lifts it up from where it lays. swirls it around amongst the legs of travelers. the daily commuters on their ways to work or home. they notice it not. they barely take a second glance as it gently lands back on the ground to be trampled underfoot.
the muse is gone. the music notes silenced. the birds seek it to accompany them when they warble. their search is fruitless. they can not find it anymore. they take flight. hoping to see it from up high among the jet streams. they search for it among the trees and within the gardens. they find it not. they never will. feeling defeated when their search’s end at nightfall. they sit perched in buildings eaves and tuck their disheartened heads under wing to sleep. the dawn brings with it reality. they search for the muse no more.
the muse is gone. forgotten in the gutter. covered in dirt and damp with sewage. it hardly resembles itself. the sparkle and shine has been muted and dulled. edges crumbled and breaking apart. where once were fine lines and definition only jagged edges and shapelessness remain. breathless, it can barely sigh its discontent. hopeless, it lies there. waiting for a heavy rain to wash it away.
the rain to make everything new.
the rain to make clean what has been soiled.
the muse is gone.