My Muse is bliss:singing

oh my Darling, I don't know what to say,
... you choose with alacrity,
and life chooses you for that authenticity;
for not is good `nor bad, but thinking makes it so,
or better yet, that heresy we shout,
that God speaks to us all, from the inside out …

my Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …

What could you not say to me?
If Poetry speaks to you,
the language of your Heart,
I am pleased and overflowed to hear it.
Yet I write these for you, in my heart.

I feel you! What more can I say…
the Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …
some mornings after having danced
with my Muse, and a Poem recited on her lips,
then to awake and it's gone like a wisp …

my Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …

... she is there in you,
I see her peeking through the Poem,
she is of hearth and heath and home,
she is the sky and birds that sing,
oh my,
I see, she is in everything …

Your thoughtful messages make my heart swell,
as it comes from a writer who with her pen,
can, again and again, blow my mind away,
and make my heart to play …

... and in kind so are you,
a writers friend, and a keeper of the flame,
from which we send these simple writes,
and in the end, a thousand lights,
that gift of kindness, that cannot compare ...

my Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …

... oh, a painting, an impressionistic piece,
colouring that longing sky,
that unreachable star, of Poetry...
you have captured the stirring caress
of the transcendent in this,
and sent it to my Heart with these few lines,
an enjambment beat the beat
in your vers Liberte, and I must say,
those waves of yours and mine,
sent me to a farther shore!

your use of colourful language
and your image descriptors
made me see/feel as if synaestetic,
and then brought me to a far star,
named by you, a galaxy with Angel wings,
that whisper and coo ...
and bathed by oceans sound,
you kept me wrapt in earth and sea,
the spin of a spiral existentially …

my Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …

... an exodus from the ordinary ...
and now on a Train hurtling into wonder ...
oh the existential crises you are creating here ...

... then all is well, that's the end so Dear,
when all the past is made clear,
and Hearts connect in healing wounded reasons worm,
where ache and wonder is born.…

oh, and a plaint that we have all lamented.
I've heard it said, that on our bed of death,
it's not the things we've done that we regret,
no,
it's those we feared to do,
that has left us wanting, wailing at our last breath …

the creative process takes you up
like an Angel winging you to Empyrean heights
while bliss:singing
and rapture flutters the Heart
as if with wings divine; you know that Secret place ...

my Muse has been dancing in my Heart
and bliss:singing lately …

after having danced with my Muse,
and a Poem recited on her lips,
then to awake and it's gone like a wisp ...