Muse – Volume 2
By Keith Kareem Williams
This is the exact quote from the dedication page from
"Glass Goddesses, Concrete Walls."
I look up and see her face in the rain. I hear her voice in the sound of the water hitting the ground. That’s what it feels like when someone inspires me. I know a lot of people and I consider a few of them true friends. My muse is something totally different from everything and everyone else. Not everyone can inspire me. In fact, me being an author, I’ve found that very few can supply me with the type of energy that opens up my mind. That quality is so rare that I crave it. It’s not something that a person can learn to do for me. It’s one of those things that either is…or it isn’t. Just like most things that can’t be explained, that’s just the way it works. Believe me, if I could change it I would, but I can’t, so I don’t even engage in that exercise in futility. Words of encouragement help me to maintain the healthy belief in what I’m doing but only a special kind of inspiration can connect my mind, my spirit and my pen. My muse does that without even trying, so effortlessly that I’m afraid of the power she has over me. Words that she said to me long ago still linger and sometimes wake me up at night. They might as well be tattooed on my skin. If after all of this time, that type of influence still holds sway over my creativity, I would call that magic. It feels good to know that that type of thing still exists.
Whenever I mention my muse, many people have mistakenly assumed that I was referring to them when I was really talking about her. The funny thing is, she’s never taken credit, or jumped to claim the title. Somewhere, she might be smiling to know that her presence still lingers. Even if she isn’t, it’s here all the same. Just as the words inked on the pages of my books are forever, she is also immortal…my immortal, because of the effect she’s had on me. She has always been my secret, although I’ve left clues in plain view here and there. To make it obvious has always felt like it would spoil it, whatever it is. I leave pieces of my own soul in all of my books for the whole world to read. Between those lines are the moments she has crossed my mind but those parts can only be seen by me.