Tiana Hunter Photography

Tiana Hunter Photography

the muses don’t wait for the solstice light to pass through the stones at stone henge
they just step a little to the right and claim their time as now

‘theres always a door to magic’, they say
‘the muses loyally keep the path to their houses lit
at any given moment you could trip over one of their threads of inspiration
they leave their booby traps everywhere’


and what a day to follow their weave
right into the castle of your own strange mind
where the back rooms are not left unlocked and wide open
safe to say it might be a bit stuffy in there
ominous sounding music 
wafting through the halls of your more cringeworthy lifetimes

if you are fortunate enough for winters muse to find you
arriving key in hand 
and dressed as your underworld guide
fair warning they will be the one to open the forbidden door
turn on the unmerciful light of awareness 
hand you a bone carved pen
And provoke you to start writing on the walls 
with ink made of the dust of dead skin 
from all those skeletons in your closet


skull cup in hand
no truth unsaid
the light returns!
the light returns!


but its still cold as ice out there
so while we’re clinking our glasses together 
toasting to the age of mischief and shadow dancing
surviving another day in the face of our ultimate demise
let us celebrate just how warm it is becoming
snuggled up close to the riddles of the snow maidens
who keep us on our toes
with our hearts beating
and just a little bit out of breath

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