Exchange with a Muse

Buzzing with creativity and can't get it out exactly. I think I need a doctor.

 “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token . . .”

 

And I whispered to the darkness: “More!”

And an echo whispered back, “no more!”

And I said, “yes!”

And they said, “no!”

And I said, “why ever not?”

And they said, “for a mortal has dreamed them already.”

 

In the silken soup that stirs sleepily and sputters with cracking rocks and clattering elements, you may extract the world.

For is it matter?

Perhaps.  Is energy matter?

Of course not. 

What then is this pot wherein so many fantastic colors and shapes display?

I know not.

Your raw materials.  Creative energy comes from the soul.

Energy is of the soul?
Yes.

So the universe’ creation, the arrangement of energy and matter, were arranged by a soul?

Yes, that should be obvious.  Herein lies a sample of chaos, and it is small.

Have the poets and painters already extracted it most?

Yes.  Gold miners and pearl divers cannot imagine the difficulty in obtaining more chaos.  This is all that is left to the human race, and now, you must take what you can of it.  Create, my child.

I do not have the tools.

I will show you where to find the ore to make the tools, my child.

Must it depend on my own industry?

Naturally, for when in your own industry wonders happen, they are truly yours.

Where can I find the ore?

Author's Note

The opening lines were quoted from "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe.

Reviews

[Belator Books]

This actually reminds me a little of physics class. "Is it matter?" " no... er, I don't know" "well, mortal... what's its atomic mass?"

Silken soup stirs sleepily... that was a great line, as much as I normally find almost-alliteration a bit hokey. The form seems a bit scattered, but the soul is there. Keep up the pen.