The Muse

There, in the thicket,
Can you see it?
A half-wild beast supping on
A half-cooked stew,
Lingering close to the clearing
Yet not quite willing to enter.

Drawn in by the stench of
Eagerness and hope,
It releases a gut-wrenching snarl and
Enters,
Moving ever closer with
A gleam and a dare in its eye.

Do you have what it takes –
The depth of faith;
The constitution and patience to
Go as far as needed –
To tame the beast…
To train this thing?

The stench of a still life,
A snapshot of some story
Rattling about in your head,
Draws the beast ever closer –
Snarling, drooling, and
Ready for battle.

Suppositions, superstitions and
Half-finished stories –
The fruit of your imagination –
Is the stuffs of which
The beast creates and cooks
Its nightly repast.

Do you possess it –
The patience and passion necessary to
Tame the beast…
To tame your muse so that
You can put pen to paper and
Clear your wild mind?