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A Childlike Muse

- A Childlike Muse -

So many muses some may have, angelic and divine in their faces and forms,
In guises grand, delightful as are the myriad nymphs out of the ancient tales!
But why seek some remote goddess who is haughty or vain, of spiteful way?
Her manner is less pleasing than her face, and in the end she will reign alone.
My heart is stirred by a deeper beauty, one that weathers life's many storms...
Innocence balanced by a precocious sort of zest for life which so never pales,
Because it is something eternal, like the sun when it rises for each fresh day.
Should I describe my ideal of feminine grace, compare it to starlight as shone,
Down from the heavens into my heart, stabbing me with cupid's painful arrow?
With pleasurable agony, which is deeper than flesh or sinew, beyond marrow...
Reaching the core of me, where few eyes see what idolatry I commit for love.
She is not like others, she is not the ideal queen or princess out of old stories,
Her heart is young, her spirit is bright, her mind is filled with vibrant dreams.
She listens to the stories I tell, enraptured and spellbound by deeper magics...
Though I am older in body, she sees the youth within my soul, understanding.
She loves to dance, to sing, to share quiet moments as we confess our worries,
And in her eyes is a sparkle, never dimmed by the river of maturity's streams.
She hears me speak of my childhood, and of the things that made it so tragic...
Whilst she calms the storms within me, with a gaze that is so comprehending!
Her voice is filled with compassion, more of music than any dove or sparrow.
She tells me stories of her own, and I am lost in them, forgetting each sorrow!
She reaches the core of me, where few eyes see my visions of heavens above.

She does not wear jeans or sloppy shirts, those are not for a girl such as her,
Preferring as she does a dress more Victorian, with ribbons and lace pretty...
Shoes fit for a doll, adorn her feet, or sandals or slippers when she chooses.
Cute pigtails frame her sweet face, with its' smile to put any cherub to shame!
Her eyelashes long, batting innocently when she looks at me as we do confer,
To whisper, of things only we understand, of what fills us with joy aplenty...
I see the rainbows and the sparkle in her spirit, in that dearest of any muses.
She hides within, the darker dreams, of Gothic glories and forbidden flame!
Perfect is her darkness, because it is balanced by her childlike sense of self.
Ideal to me is she, because like her my shadows are filled with bright wealth,
Which keep me dreaming of flowery gardens and unicorns, and also faeries.
Some may think her peculiar, but to me such a girl is of a spirit I find right,
Fair and wondrous, even in her occasional madness, which all of us possess.
She puts on her pale makeup, black lipstick or blood red, eyeliner to match...
When in contrast to her childlike nature, she so indulges in her darkest side!
Sweet child of the darkness, the moon is less than you despite its' pale light.
You are divine in your perfection, and inspired in your every choice of dress.
Though adult be your age, you still look like the child you remain, as such...
Never losing what others cast aside, within your soul where love does abide.
Let them call you mad, as in our mutual insanity we will drink to our health,
To me you are the ideal muse, more perfect than any faerie lady or noble elf!
Such as this to me is bliss Elysian, as she embraces an eternal child's dignity.

Let them call it wicked what we do, or strange in ways not oft in fashion,
Claiming it be born of an inherent aberration or some kind of perversity...
That makes you see yourself as still a little girl, in need of deepest caring!
Inside I am a child also, adult in body only, and so we will play together.
I will care for you and love you, all of you, the adult with all my passion,
And, the child that you also are, with a reverence as one has for divinity...
For such is the greatest gift I can grant to one I do find beyond endearing!
And when you seek such, I shall be to you as needed a mother and father.
People cannot understand our condition, they claim it is all in our heads,
But it comes from our spirits, our souls, and dispels in us so much dread!
If this be lunacy, then madness we shall embrace as a part of our destiny.
I see you with your dolls, and I remember when I used to play with mine,
We sit on the floor together, you look so happy as you laugh and giggle...
It makes me love you all the more, because this is what I always wanted!
A childhood that never needs to end, even when we embrace as lovers do.
You are better than any princess to me, a child goddess so fairly sublime,
And, whenever I am with you, I can let go of past hurts and old struggles.
Let us fully indulge in the childhood we never had, new dreams invented,
By our boundless imagination, which can make all our desires come true.
So many dead eyes exist in the faces of many who grow up in this world,
But ours are filled with myriad delights more pure than a precious pearl!
So, now you know how I define what I consider to be the truest beauty...

One that is free to be itself, to act as its' dreams inspire it to ever follow,
Such a one is, even in its' imperfections, the most flawless girl who lives.
I would never change a thing about her, never tell her to grow up either...
We are as we are meant to be, and so I see in her the face of my paradise.
If we choose to play through our weekend days, dancing till the morrow,
Laughing freely, loving deeply, singing with a zeal for being truly alive...
Then I am content at day's end, and in our life together find real pleasure.
No goddess could grant me such a gift, only this child so sweet and nice!
Is her adult side seducing me with promises of forbidden lusty evenings?
I am happy to be seduced, by her starlit eyes and their secret gleamings...
Carried away in dark fantasies, woven of shadows and the stuff of night.
As fair are these, of her design, as any sunlit meadows or pixie palaces,
More delicious than gingerbread at Christmastime, or the first snowfall.
Every holiday is her delight, each star in the sky is to her an angel's eye,
And in this we are alike, and with such as she I can be as I was intended.
Not perfect, but perfectly happy and content to know all of love's graces,
To join in her dancing and singing, to skip about with her and never fall.
There is so much that adults forsake, so many joys that they may deny...
But with my childlike muse I am content, with her my pains so mended.
No bards have sung of such a one as she, and so I raise my voice herein,
To celebrate my muse and so immortalize her, if only to make her grin!
Her happiness is to me infectious and welcome, the source of all delight.
Written by Kou_Indigo (Kara L. Pythiana-Ashton)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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