There is only purple

Thalia

Calliope

Erato

Melpomene

Clio

Euterpe

Polyhymnia

Urania

Terpsichore

Magic seems to be creeping in through the crevices. There's a muse out there, a whisper, a breathing in, inspiration.

There is poetry waiting to get out.

Dry ice and pretty dresses and rainbow-coloured park benches.

Something is happening here, only I don't know what.

I arise from exhausted sleep to lavender-scented air. France is peeping at me from the behind the bedpost.

The shepherdess comes alive. She smiles tenderly.

I take myself off to KLCC after a long long time and buy books of poetry. Books and books and books. There's Lorca. There's Whitman.

I'm alive. And the world shines for me today. Suddenly I am here today. Seems like forever. Thought I could never. Is this really me? I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive...

I invoke the muses.

I reject the gray.

No dust.

No despair.

No traffic.

No haze.

There is only purple.