Muse

What is a muse?
How does she look?
How come she took
Over my mind?

Inspires me
Blesses the thoughts.
An arrow of tangled plots
Stabs into tranquil heart.

I was a target –
A random  man.
Poetical tornado span
Me in its whirl.

A muse – sensitive essence,
Womanly, fragile, tender.
Can get a victim of offender
So easily.

She is omnipotent.
A ghost that can fly
Billowing above me and even cry
In silence.

A twiggy matter
From another world
Where it is pretty cold
Perhaps.

The alien world
Where thoughts, pure perfection,
Look into one-way mirror at their reflections –
Spiritual beauty.

And I've been blest
To see that mirror's other side.
The muse exposed the way inside,
I sense it.

A lot of things
Of which I sought  after her presence
Hoping to feel the fragrance
Scarcely perceptible.

She evanesces
To unexpectedly appear
As manic fear or sorrowing tear;
You never know.

It's hide-and-seek
With no rules.
It happens intuition fools
Its host.

Sophisticated muse
That pours my minds
Out on paper and just binds
Them in verse.

Rhyme gushes –
Such pleasant melody of words
Like virtuoso's playing chords
On a piano.

Line after line
And here is quatrain.
Where both love and pain
Are dwelling.

Liaisons form.
The threads that can't be seen
Sew them together, as if genes
Of  DNA chain.

A poem's finishing.
Uncanny sense of melancholy seizes.
But then again my muse literally breathes;
I am inhaling.