For My Muse

My orb. The Earth is still sitting in pieces.
Tight lipped and poor.
My orb. The grass is still under my feet.
It scratches me fancy, growing so sweet.
My life. The children here still ask for the blanket at night.
And you. You still tremble, right?
When the lightening strikes,
And the air tells the willow—this is no time to fight.
Please wrap that which wilts and seize that which fears.
So clear are the pathways and what is simple is so near.
My orb. You brighten in that shade so far, far away.
Stay my muse, won’t you?
I can be your princess, your tumble, your sway.
Don’t eat from your lovers. They will wash you away.
The poet, dear, she needs you. Walk on the path that leads you astray.

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