The Muse

Let’s feather our nest with words

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Let’s feather our nest with words and feast on the flotsam of fear
As love flows forth from our fingers and washes it away
The page is a mirror where all human hopes cohere.

Only mannered magpies can never be sincere
Forgive those aloof fools who fail to fustigate hearsay
Let’s feather our nest with words and feast on the flotsam of fear.

Hearts are lexicographers fluent in the language of cheer
Chronicling the quotidian without disdain or dismay
The page is a mirror where all human hopes cohere.

Life is but a whirlwind of moments to revere
Two minds over which mutual devotion holds sway
Let’s feather our nest with words and feast on the flotsam of fear.

We welcome and accept each other as we are, without sneer
Your smile reminds me today always trumps yesterday
The page is a mirror where all human hopes cohere.

Thanks to you distress once hidden between the lines is but a souvenir
To parlay into a new poem, another song or story, one more essay
Let’s feather our nest with words and feast on the flotsam of fear
The page is a mirror where all human hopes cohere.

“The common prejudice that love is as common as “romance” may be due to the fact that we all learned about it first through poetry. But the poets fool us; they are the only ones to whom love is not only a crucial, but an indispensable experience, which entitles them to mistake it for a universal one.”

Hannah Arendt

I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor living out of a suitcase in transit between North America and Europe. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.

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