The Muse Conversations Pt 31

My need to fly has been depleted, the wind has softened its face under
this chiseled exterior, and beneath my hopes all the cracks are being exposed.
How frail this present disposition, the water seems to be muted, and everywhere I reach
is silent, even though the night still whispers your name.
How precarious this new ground, like walking in a landscape of bubble-wrap, everywhere
is another landmine waiting to be unearthed.
Wounds are like feathers flying freely, but the scars remain.
I am solitary, silent as granite and eroding eternal.
I seep and bleed ink lines, and nowhere is safe to run and hide.
In the margins all is revealed, although some remains obscured by dust.
Where to go from here I hear myself say to the sky.
This journey is like an uncharted map recently discovered,
nothing is familiar and yet somehow it feels so.
The pieces are coming together slowly, and walls crumble slowly,
and the hours pass slowly.
I have removed some of the armour, my flesh bare, my heart open,
and still you beckon.
Time is not an ally but a foe.
The past is like a window one cannot fully close, I have tried to board them over
to no avail, tried to remove them and still the air finds a way in.
I am a shell of a man, a raisin of hope, and yet you see fit to put me up on the altar
of love like some kind of dark prince.
I dream of you angel, I touch your halo and someday hopefully
the stars magic dust will make everything just fade away.
I want so many things from this time, to frequent this place with an open heart and end.
I am giving you my thoughts, my breath, my lifeblood of work,
and one day I will give you all.