The muse visited.

It happened to have brought cadence to a heart that rushed through the days and never asked for more than balance. The day wore Its long grey coat and the sky wanted to dim Its light so It doesn't bounce from the surface of the earth, too much of a blinding light. Its warmth can be felt, but to sense it, It feels almost too good. As If, not deserving to feel what It can be like to have it. So much to give, yet, no soul to give to. And someone giving to the self might only feed an ego that the inner self never wants to have. It just, wants something simple, that can remain and be appreciated for the most little bits of what It has.

Fingers are too shy to touch, the flow of the fluid that will course through the veins and grace the brain with the upmost soothing feeling is, welcomed with a shy manner. There will be words that merge, there will be, something, sometime, I, hope.