The muse and I have an agreement.
She whispers. I listen.
And in my listening, I respond from somewhere deep within me.
I cannot see this place of response.
I cannot define its presence.
It is a knowing. An intuiting. A divining.
Sometimes, her whispers in this place, are soft and gentle, like a summer breeze caressing my skin.
Other times, her whispers are like summer’s late kiss, reminding me to treasure each leaf turning golden before autumn’s fall.
And other times, she is like the wind blowing fiercely in on a summer storm. She wakes me up with her thunderous roar, pushing me over the edge of the known into that place where I leap up to dance in the rain and run through puddles, throwing myself with abandon into the storm.
It was stormy here last night.
This morning, the muse awoke me.
Let Me Live on the Wild Side
By Louise Gallagher ©2018
Let me live on the wild side of this crazy heart
not keeping time
spending every moment up
to the end of time.
Let me dance ferociously with the wildflowers blowing
to the heartbeat
of my used up life
gone wild in time.
Let me dive fearlessly into the crazy-wild
not holding back
any precious moment
of life lived free of time.