My muse is not tangible,

Nor is it seen.

It is the slight flutter of your heart

When a beat drums against your soul.

It is the slow head roll you experience

When smooth beats encase you in tranquility.

It is the final push up you manage to do

When a sick drop resonates throughout your bones.

It is the invisible comfort you need

When a sad melody drapes over your shoulders.

My muse is not tangible,

Nor is it seen.

It is felt.