I may call my muse 'her' or 'he', 'them' or 'it' - regardless, she is formless in many forms and she has her way with me. Towards her I am truly powerless, and the worst time is when I have power against her! When I can keep flying higher and look down below, bewildered that she does not want to follow me in the sky, or that she is not above me; but how will I find my firm footing in the sky? My rock in the clouds?
For there, where I have firm footing, she sings to me; there, where my stomach-turns with my higher-flying is where her song becomes what I breath; but how, how will I find rocks among clouds?
On the tops of mountains.
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