In search of a muse
There is no vitrine
Or glassed in diorama
Containing the muse
In the namesake castle
But traces can be found
Between the object's decorum
Through the vast halls
In every museum
Out in the park
A fountain says "spewing"
There are statues, sculptures
Just for viewing
And even though this is absolutely amusing
There is only a hint
Of the muse coming through it
With the radio on
Inside of your head
It’s the music's world playing out
The text that is read
Here in the sounds it is also know too
That the footprints of the muse
Are left there as clues
The sacred place
Deep inside of you
Is where you will find the leavers of clues
The ones that we search for
And have faith they will come
The muses, the mused,
Our creativity begun.
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