CREATOR’S MUSE

She taught me about poetry
was my pen, my prompt and my poem
She was the muse of the universe
inspired the creation of mist and dirt and thunders
and this floating rock we call home

Her Eyes,
Leaving dishonesty vulnerable, mesmerizing each heretic
And watching and re-watching Titanic

Her Ears,
Harkening to the arcane whispers of the black holes about how to mend earth's chasms
And listening to her BFF’s latest discourse-‘dark memes are the resurgence of neo-Dadaism’

Her Lips,
Casting spells of Life on dried out leaves
And whistling back to the cuckoo singing in the balcony

Her Nose,
Made them consider it a Yin spot in Chinese astrology
And the canvas for perfect highlight and contouring

Her Palms,
In which the Goddesses have planted constellations of dark and bright galaxies
And in which she collects the raindrops of rainstorms to wash off her muddied knees

Her Arms,
With Magic and time flowing through the blue green veins
And carrying around her Psych textbooks with lyrics scribbled in the margins

Singing lullabies into the void, forging matter with every word
Tiptoeing through shimmering stars barefoot, sprinkling life and stardust
She neatly organised the stars, giving them family and neighbors
Moulding the planets in layers of core, mantle and crust

She didn’t make humans in her own image
She is looking for herself in them.