As an artist, one is always looking for an appearance and definetion of the muse for inspiration.
She takes many forms.

The Muse as Artist ……GOLDIE

Tall cool drink of water is the first thing that comes to mind when she walks in the room.
Not because she's long and tall with great legs that go all the way to the floor or the fact that she moves with a fluid grace that reminds me of ice and snow melting.
But because all of a sudden its like a halogen spotlight has been lit next to me focused on her and things seem to be heating up pretty fast.
A smile and a few bright words later and I could swear some body must have lit a fire close by. Maybe in the large fireplace in this cozy ski resort bar in the mountains of Idaho, but wait a second, it's the second day of summer and the temperature has been around 80 degrees all afternoon (altho it feels like a lot more than that now!) nobody would waste wood like that around here and besides it seems more like the fire and smoke of exotic flowers and ocean driftwood and the reflection of countless golden sunsets in eyes of true Aquamarine, like scintillating gems from Neptune's private stash, as if it was her right and duty and responsibility to be the last person of the day to say goodnight to the Sun and keep it's light and heat undiminished and radiating across this palmed beach through the dark and steamy night.
Whoa, wasn't I in a bar somewhere in some mountains?
As my eyes adjust to the glare and this heat starts to feel normal or at least appropriate, we start to talk and with a simple unspoken invitation she and her sister come over to join us.
Carrying her plate and champagne glass towards me she radiates as much as before, but, I sense a subtly different source for this thick, almost suffocating hot wind that is swirling between us, It comes from deep in me. The red an black fire of a Garnet that has been in the depths of a dormant (but not extinct) volcano, waiting for the pressure to build, so, like the great Kundalini, "Serpent of Dreams ", it can expand and rise from the red chakra of the mountain, swelling and gaining strength and purpose towards it's inevitable meeting and fusion with the white hot star that created it.
She sets down her glass like a barefoot high priestess with an ankle bracelet of seaweed and gems made from stars that fell into the sea that she gathered herself, offering a grail to Pele, Goddess of the volcano and muse to the fires within.
We make real eye contact and she touches my arm. Suddenly the room grows even hotter, my clothes are getting tighter, my neck and back feel like an old wool sweater that's been hanging in an attic closet for twenty years. I've got to have more, more heat, more light.
My clothes are shredding as my whole body seems to be changing like a chrysalis emerging from a mid life cocoon, the whole bar is watching now as long, featherlike antennae emerge from the top of my head, my arms turn to wings of fragile lace and as I fly with reckless abandon into the burning heart of the Sun, I hear the words "I'm an Artist"

I really need a tall cool drink of water!!