The muse comes out at night.
It crawls up from it's starry realm of inspiration and eloquence. Deciding that now, is the perfect time to think about such things.
It wakes you up with vivid thoughts and ideas, whispering words and tellings of stories. Lines of prose, quotes and sketches that it demands that you jot down, lest they be lost in reclaiming your sleep.
Itching and nibbling at your fingers to create.
Unrelenting until you roll over, groan and curse your sudden sleeplessness and torrent of thoughts.
Sometimes the only way to make it settle back down like a large contented cat is to give into it's whims.
Are you happy now?
It's 4 am
I tried reading, I tried resting my eyes, I tried moving into different rooms, I tried light excercise.
Can we go back to sleep?
Please?
