The Inner Sanctum

John Mayer floats out of my speakers
his music mingles with the scent of the lavender plant on my desk.
I search for sleep, for peace and find it not.
Smoke curls in the air
forming words I cannot read.
It is quiet outside my window
but inside
inside here, it is so loud.
My mind is racing, cutting a way through the stormy sea of my mind.
I see each wave crest and break upon the bow of my small ship.
Each one tries to overturn and sink this vessel of mine.
I open the door and there she is, my Muse.
She is stunning and simply enchanting.
She lay there, asleep. The moon shining on her face.
I sit there and wistfully watch her sleep.
How I long to take her in my arms and go on an adventure.
I recall the many journeys we have gone on together and I know
I know there will be many more.
She waits for the right one for us.
She has never steered me wrong.
She may be unruly and temperamental at times, but find me a woman who isn't.
I leave her be for the time and return to my inner sanctum.
To my vast collection of books. My desk with papers and ink spots.
My smoking jacket with a burn mark in the sleeve and my big leather chair.
The dark paneled walls filled with books.
This place has seen joy,
sadness,
grief,
brokenness,
tears abundant,
anger,
hurt,
pain,
pleasure,
love,
lies,
loneliness,
fear,
terror,
horror,
bliss,
 and
faith.