Inspirational Incubus

If I were the muse
I'd appear in moments of quiet solitude
whispering words of wonder and possibility.

I'd guide the poet to the edges of dreams.
I'd lead him to hidden groves
where time stands still.
Where the rustling leaves
and murmuring streams compose
a symphony of inspiration.

With a touch as light as moonbeams
I'd paint the skies with hues
of dawn and dusk,
he'd find rhythm in chaos,
harmony in discord.

As his muse, I'd be the discovery
that within the realm of imagination
there are no limits, only endless horizons.