I do not need a muse
Floating like a mid-morning thought
To remember
The gentle breeze
That left me lonely
On an August night
When hands that had made
Breakfast
On a snowy morning
Waved goodbye
And left the door open
I do not need a muse
To paint photos of blue seas
Where I left a name so short
That a midnight breath
Could hardly recall
After a search in the narrow streets
Of a city where a secret was shared
Next to a building of old stones
And never repeated
Over time
Continents
And lonesome sunsets
I do not need a muse
To know that I still can
On a full moon or through
A desert storm
Repeat
What was once left
With me
As the door was left open
And I was left to wonder
If I could still find words
Colours
Or a simple touch
To paint the gentle breeze
Of an August night
Next to the bluest sea
But now I know
That
All I need is to keep
The door open
And when on a humid night
I hear distant thunder and the promise
Of rain
Away from the seas
Away from cities of steel and concrete
I secretly let the desert whisper again
A name
So short
So it simply
Feels good
To not have a muse
But to know
That I once
Had
One
August 27, 2020
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020
I took this photo with a 1954 Canon L3 rangefinder during a concert by Andrea Bocelli. The slow speed of the shutter made it a parade of memories, muses or ghosts on that stage…
