Ah! The Muse!

After living an entire lifetime as an artist, I've finally discovered the identity of my muse.

Ah! The muse!
The beneficent guardian spirit who protects my ideas and inspirations.
Ah! The muse!
She who indeed breathes that inspiration into mine ear as I lay in gentle reverie.
Ah! The muse!
The repository of every lofty idea I shall ever imagine.
Ah! The Muse!

Yeah, right...

Maybe that's the muse of sleeping poets and passed out musicians, but my muse is none other than Lucy, and I have always been Charlie Brown.

Since I first began expressing myself through the arts over half a century ago, I have listened to her goading, coaxing, enticing me to kick the ball she holds, and no matter how much I trust, she always, always pulls it away at the last minute. Time and again we have repeated this little game; I never learn.

Or perhaps I know all too well, but hope against hope for a different outcome. Perhaps I believe that one day she'll take pity, or have mercy, or lose interest, and just allow me that one lovely kick. Perhaps I'm insane.

Or perhaps next time I'll aim a little higher and send her sprawling.