OLN #406
In response to dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight: https://wp.me/p1GTyJ-90g
Where the Muse Touches
He does not belong to the ground.
Even as hooves strike
something like earth,
you can feel it—
he is already elsewhere.
The wings know before the body does.
And she—
reaching, not falling—not needing to be held,
only met.
There is fire in her movement,
not destruction,
but becoming.
The air bends around them,
gold and breath and something unnamed.
This is not flight.
This is the moment before it—
when something inside you
recognizes
what it was always meant
to follow.
The muses do not chase.
They wait.
And when you are ready—
when you dare to rise
without certainty—
they meet you there.
— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫
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