My Own Muse

For a day, or two,

Or longer still,

Let me be my own muse:

A mirage of hope

I chase within.

Can I place myself

On a pedestal-

To look at me

As I look at the moon?

Clouds made of 

Rainbows.

Periwinkles blooming

Through cement 

Cracks.

The last light of sun

Falling at right angles

On a restless tide.

Can I be the evening breeze

Brushing past her cheeks?

Can be a caress to 

Cleanse myself

In her fragrance?

Can I hold myself

Between a prayer and 

A dance?

A fragile ray of starlight

Defying an ancient giant?

Can I slip through

The cracks of inevitability,

And sing lullabies-

For myself, this time?

A mindless thought.

Irrational decision.

Sweet little accident

And an irresistible 

Grasp.

Like the same one 

In a million chance 

Of being born.

Can I be my own muse?

For making it this far.