Love of Inspiration

He could see me! Though this was not uncommon, most mortals, from birth, were oblivious to our existence. I am a celestial being, like mists and vapor to the mortal realms, yet this child knew his muse. Though I knew that time and education would block his eyes to my existence, and leave me as a nonexistent shadow to him, I cherished that smile.

For mortals with whom we are charged, we are aware of the sway our voice will have over them. We see this inclination, this potential, as a burning light, ready to be stoked into a roaring flame within the souls of our charges. And this particular child -named Joseph by his parents- practically glowed with such promise. But the prevalence of the minions of darkness -invisible to, yet sensed by us- made it chillingly evident that they saw this potential as well, and no doubt wished to use it for their own twisted purposes. If successful, they could claim him as their own at his time of transferal to the supreme universe. And there would be no place for him with the souls of the righteous in the Celestial City. He would become a lost soul, trapped forever in the shadowy madness of the lower universe: a fate that I would not allow.

Through the pains and trials of growing up, I stayed ever at Joseph’s side, connected to him by spirit, thwarting the minions of darkness by my subtly inspiring him on the path of righteousness. Though he had long lost his ability to see me, he was unusually receptive to my voice, far more than any mortal under my guidance had ever been. His was the power to hear the music in the wind, and feel the rhythm in the very colors of the world around him. And his mind was so quick to make connections to his imagination that inspiration took little to no effort by me. So rife was his mind with ideas that by the tender age of six, our combined efforts birthed a complex musical composition that attracted the recognition of a special school in arts.

War against the lower universe is a tricky and dangerous game, especially when one treads upon the ground that its dark minions wish to claim. In this, Joseph’s mind after his enrollment in the school of arts became a battlefield to me: a contest of will against the darkness that worked against my sway to inspire him towards rebellion. However, I made every effort to quench this spark of evil, inspiring him instead towards obedience and discipline. Doing battle against the lower universe stressed my limits but still, I remained ever by Joseph’s side, ever his faithful muse, polishing his talents like gold put through a furnace until it is perfection.

Through the multitude of trials and tribulations of that page of the life of my charge, I was victorious in my efforts. And at last, I swelled with pride as I, with his parents, saw him graduate, with a head ripe with ideas finally come to fruition by years of study and my inspiration.

Joseph, following after the voice of his calling, became a songwriter and part-time author. By his eighteenth year, he became an overnight success in the world of men, publishing his first novel and recording his first song, a romantic piece that awarded him much fame, and awarded me much happiness. At last, I could taste the fruits of my labor in this mortal, and smile at a job well done.

***

Fruit is where I ended, and fruit is where I begin, because it is the cause of the turning of the next chapter in my long existence, but the device of the grand change of which I previously spoke.