Missing A Muse

As long as she exists, so will his words
as long as she stays, there will be thought.
For even in her absence, she manages to manipulate her writer
She boasts of a power that defines him and his career
She is not the subject of his every piece
but she takes credit for his wild imagination.
For when he floats in her aura, she takes over his mind,
and inspires him to suspend everything that's real.
She pushes him into a world that demands his creativity
a world that fills him with words he otherwise can't explain.
She'll take his hand, and draw him in
to a land that opens up his heart.
She is a constant in the change,
her mere existence allowing his imagination to travel across seas and oceans
the blue, red and dead,
none, in all their vastness, can measure up to the amount of figments she's created in his mind.
A foundation that lifts him up,
she holds him down while giving him wings to fly over unseen waters
and territories never ventured on before.
She doesn't move, and she doesn't speak, she doesn't touch and neither steals a peek.
she's oblivious in all her beauty, to the words she has inspired.

To a writer who thrives on her existence,
without her, he's ordinary and negligible in his works.
Without her, he is empty.
A river that once overflowed with inspiration,
now runs eerie and dry.
Somewhere deep down within his heart,
a muse-less writer cries.