Publisher's Synopsis
This offering of love is a graft of truth, imagination and stellar inspired insight, the result of the entry of an unexpected visitor who for a time, first replenished and then supercharged my life force; a being so blatantly alien and utterly different from any women I've had the fortune of letting sojourn in my heart. The creative world knows them as muses, legend says there were nine of them: exceedingly beautiful daughters of the god Zeus who sparked an explosion of artistic works, fine music and enlightened literature for the benefit of simple mankind.Life, being the melting pot of pure magic and mystery that it is, is not bereft of tantalizing clues that it is at its core, a catalyst. A catalyst that can effortlessly perform alchemical changes on us chess pieces, prisoners, children or partners in crime what have you.For some strange reason, I was paid a rather long visit by a muse who I firmly believe is the eldest and flawlessly sublime Calliope, the patroness of epic poetry and eloquence. Three years and some change ago, she crash landed into my world and enveloped me in her multiverse: demure, exotic, intelligent, with the voice, quirks and manners of an angel. For a time she was obedient and wore her heart on her sleeve, and was seemingly hellbent on unlocking and knowing my secrets. She introduced me to avenues like classical music; the haunting Albinoni's Adagio in G minor which somehow turned on my dormant creative streak; she knew much about art and being a superb sketch artist, she taught me that art can trigger nearly the same tidal wave of highs that being in love can give us lucky mortals.I shared a few insights that seemed to win her over. Her attention was almost child-like, even reverent and I took it for granted as most Neanderthals ( read men) tend to do. The landscape changed overnight when, I strongly suspect, she put a spell on me. After a year of being just friends and confidantes, I fell, nay arose madly in love with her; her essence nearly drove me over the edge. The details are briefly mentioned in the story and I must apologize in advance if there are some gaps for the uninitiated.The start of each chapter, save for the first, begins with an original poetic creation, each inspired by either being in her presence or drawn out of the agony caused by being without. I'm not given to write poetry as a rule, so it surprised me when I lay awake night after endless night tapping at my phone until dawn brought welcome sleep. It was during one of these delirious trysts with insomnia that I googled muses and was dumbstruck to see the first image result. The muse Calliope with her trademark posture, her chin resting nonchalantly on her enchanted fingers which was a dead ringer for my star child.Further research revealed Calliope's characteristic nuances, many of them resonated with her eclectic quirks. But I digress Today when you listen to amazing music, gaze at inspired architecture, watch a movie that changes the way you see life or indeed simply stare spellbound at masterpieces in a museum, take a moment to acknowledge that they just may have been inspired by a benevolent muse.She is my Last but I, her AfterChoice!I paint but Love; she sees mismatched colorHere I bow to Light to grant her strengthAs one addicted to power, she Herself never can.I love but one..and with this undulating memory of her, I humbly vow to accord love to as much of the known universe that my senses can reach.Chris Fernandes
