#28 Serendipity – Muse

As I watch over my charge, I weep and moan, yearning to go to him and give him succor. But, alas, there is nothing that I can do. My gifts are freely given, but accepted by few. It is a rare man that can accept the bounty of a Muse, but William has always been one such man.

Until the King’s demand came. Then no matter how much he commanded himself to write, not how much of my Grace I gave to him, it availed naught. The paper remains blank, a torment that only the gifted can divine.

I know what it is that ails him. He cannot receive my gifts, because his mind is too attached to the world. Instead of writing his work glorifying the King’s son and his pilgrimage, my artist can only see the broken corpses and the burned cities that the Prince left in his wake. It absorbs his mind. Every thought cascades with images of the Holy Land turned red with blood.

It is little wonder that he cannot summon forth the words of beauty and wonder that he normally does, even with the full force of my gift. It is little wonder, but a great pity.

Category: 2011, Fantasy