Why can't you hear it? It's loud. So loud. Like thunderous booms, like beating drums, but it always comes in a whisper. It travels through the air, one with the wind, and if you hold your breath, you'll miss your chance to catch it. I hear it, every time it whooshes by, moving my thoughts like fine, wind-blown hair, I'll hear the pounding whispers.
Why can't you see it? It's so obvious. Like flashing lights in a dark room, like the brightest of colors on a dull background, but it seems to hide itself. Camouflaged in a moving society, you can only catch a glimpse before it disappears entirely. But I see it, disguising itself as a mystery, only to be seen by those who dare to look hard enough.
Why can't you feel it? It's so sensational. Like the wave of heat a hungry fire pulses on your face, like an icy river that rushes past your feet, but it's so gentle. It's invitation to a pleasured soul goes unnoticed by anyone who is too distracted to look up and out. But I can feel it, running up my spine, and twisting my throat, letting lose a bubbled laughter, I feel the griping.
But you can't. You can't hear it, see it, feel it. You walk by without noticing it's potential for beauty. You ignore it's cries, hiding your eyes from it's vastness, and your body goes numb. You can't. You won't.
It ripples through me--quickening my heart--my hastening fate lays ahead in an unknown abyss, and I welcome it.
You cannot meet it. But I will.
It may not sound like I'm describing my muse, but my muse (as the titles states: Adventure) also comes along with my muse for people who strangely avoid it. I've always wondered why, and it's become a very definite muse lately.
Thanks for this awesome contest! I love the idea!
-LovelySheree
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