The muse.

It stems from the inside

When searched for outside.

 

The muse.

It is in the form

Not in the function.

 

The muse.

It is in the fancy

Rather than the facts.

 

The muse.

It is in the suffering

Far from the pain.

 

The muse.

It is the ripples

Risen from the sinking stone.

 

The muse.

It is the road

Without the destination.

 

The muse.

It is the rays of sunlight

Wrestling through the cracks of thick curtains.

 

The muse.

It is the tree

Standing solitary but blooming.

 

The muse.

It is in the eyes

Of the fond face.

 

The muse.