Memories of my muse…
Original DDE™ art: “My Muse” by: rob kistner © 2/18/26
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she arrived
this being of the ages
this muse
this nymph…
this spirit of the land—
like a vision
I hadn’t realize I’d petitioned—
like a beautiful day
like enveloping fair weather
I did not know
how much I needed
warm rain
across sunlit stone
cedar smoke
drifting through morning air
she—
beautiful as in all creation
her hair
the deep amber glow
of raw gold
in low light-
or catching fire
when ignited by the sun
in a warm sunset’s embers
on a late afternoon
deep in September
when she turned
she radiated warmth
as if morning…
evening…
all the day itself
lived in her—
like a kindled harth
her laughter—
moved like wind
through tall summer grass—
bending nothing
touching everything
her voice
smooth
like the feel of fine silk—
a tone
like the elixir of gods
she needed not shout
she shared wisdom
with velvet certainty
she walked
as though the land
recognized her returning—
let sigh at her passing—
slender, lithe, unhurried
any lights near
lean toward her passage
loved by language
she spoke with the calm certainty
of one who has listened deeply—
…to grief
…to conflicts
…to solutions
…to seduction
…to beauty
…to art
…to love
nothing in her asks permission
nothing in her forgets delight
nothing in her forgets gratitude
nothing in her forgets to share
her intelligence moves through her
like light through clear water—
sensed before understood—
a glimmer in the eye—
a knowing curve
at the corner of her mouth
she teaches me—
…the names of birds,
…the patience of roots,
…how the earth listens
before it answers
at twilight her voice softens
braiding stories into ember glow—
I gather each syllable
like sparks against the dark
wanting their warmth to remain
when she walks beside me
the ground feels steadier…
my footsteps lighter…
as if they have finally
found their proper rhythm
at dusk
her hand in mine
is both question
and shelter—
the world grows quieter around us
her lips at my neck — her breath
…is cedar
…rain
…sunshine
…firelight
it is the pull and power
of the surf
crashing on the shore
the slow warmth between us
rose like tidewater
in moonlight’s silver—
unhurried…
certain…
returning again and again
stars appeared
in their light
her eyes
were younger than yesterday—
but held the truth of ages
a history older than sorrow
belied by her youthful aura
but her heart—
deep
…with a tenderness
wide enough
to always call me home
but our time was fleeting
now she is gone
still—
I have so much to give
so much to learn…
as I ever yearn—
I will forever
dream her return
<~>
rob kistner © 3/03/26