the romantique and the muse

The muse known as "nightblooming" or perhaps "nightbloom" had not read my blog in a few days before granting assent for the final concept and cover of the new CD...a few hours after she granted it she flashed me an email (not flashed me IN an email, which would have been nicer, as she has an incredible body) and quoted my own words to me

"Still playing tug-of-war with a muse regarding the podcast and the CD...eventually I'll just give up in disgust"

and just asked "Really?"

And I had a moment there where I could have said the absolutely best thing politically, or I could truthspeak. I had to tell the truth, the last person I want or even can to lie to is a muse (even one from Salinas). So I explained that I have never been legend for my patience, and that her taking her time to consider if she wanted the whole CD to revolve around her and feature her photo on the cover was pushing off the schedule such that I would have to eventually decide whether or not to make the package and concept just more generic.

I am not sure she believed me. All she has seen from me is patience and restraint, she hasn't seen me when the dragon is upon me (the funny thing is, knowing her tastes, she might actually like the dragon a bit more than the gentleman-saint-philosopher-poet who listens to her when even the very essence of her issues cuts deep, as that is what one does). I don't believe in being selfish and the very notion of rejecting someone just because they don't think/feel/act in this moment as you wish they would is perverse to me.

Long time observers, don't worry. Smart money is she'll eventually wear me down and join the ranks of the legends of the past, even if she remains a friend who from time to time calls upon me for advice or just to catch up. I have never fallen out of love: I have just learned, in time, my own sanity requires the book be closed and placed upon the shelf in its proper place.

To quote the final line of my very tortured "threnody for times now past", which was the poem I wrote to break with Psyche:

"the seed still lives. but the shoots are now trimmed to encourage proper growth."

One day, perhaps, those words will not mark the boundaries of my heart. Until then, I must never be so afraid of falling that I am afraid to leap from the highest towers of hope and passion and earnest affection.