When I painting her, my reverie told me that I loved her
When I painting her, my reverie told me that I loved her
I cannot write in verse, for I am no poet. I cannot arrange the parts of speech with such art as to produce effects of light and shade, for I am no painter. Even by signs and gestures I cannot express my thoughts and feelings, for I am no dancer. But I can do so by means of sounds, for I am a musician....- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Muse
As a verb, to muse is to consider something thoughtfully. As a noun, it means a person — especially a woman — who is a source of artistic inspiration.
In mythology, the Muses were nine goddesses who symbolized the arts and sciences. Today, a muse is a person who serves as an artist's inspiration. Often filmmakers talk about a certain actor being a muse — meaning the actor inspired a movie. Writers, painters, musicians, and other artists have muses. Muse can also refer to thinking deeply. If you muse about something, you're giving it serious thought. You can't muse in five seconds. People muse on certain ideas for years.
When I painting her, my reverie told me that I loved her
One-shoot
My hand wouldn't stop shaking, couldn't firmly hold the brush on my fingers, let alone finish painting her. I knew that if she wanted to could, she order some other painter with skills superior to mine.
However, she chose me. My teacher, my Goddess and now, lying naked on the couch, my muse. I felt a pain in my womb, crossed my legs trying to soften and turning my attention to the painting in front of me.
I think it all started when I told her in a letter about another hobby, besides reading, of course. But I'd never have imagined that Princess Celestia, would asked me to paint her. How I would dare I deny a request from her?
Not in a thousand years.
I closed my eyes, sighing deeply and giving again all attention to her face. Even with millennia of age were still beautiful, I think nobody will be able to portray such a work of art. She alone is a masterpiece, and no painting Van Gogh will be compared with her beauty, no sculpture of Michelangelo will portray so perfectly the curves of her body and no symphony written by Mozart it will be as melodious as her voice.
She carries with a kind look sometimes at a glance, look tired to live so many years, see so many friends, lovers and the citizens themselves die.
Escape slowly from her memory over the centuries, as sand escapes from the hands of a child and is lost among so many others.
Princess for me is to me the purest form of art. Celestia for me is art.
I guess, I'm just a sorceress, now a painter with a humble and difficult task, portraying Celestia in a painting. The yellow colors couldn't convey the heat it exudes, with every gesture and action. The red isn't able to transmit her anger, while trying to attack her kingdom. Believe me, witnessed such a scene dozens of times. Even Celestia becoming a book, I read hundreds of times, I never came to an end. She still had so many secrets, so many fears I think I'll never be able to help her.
However, I hope that someone, someday can read she. The way I'll never get it.
There is no tonality that looks like her eyes, tired and sometimes sad, but always beautiful. One day someone will find the right color to use. As my hands was shaking at the moment, I still couldn't finish painting her, I dropped the brush, as if it were the most disgusting thing in the world, and the noise of the thud with the brush and the collapse of the ground echoed, the drops of paint spreading. Making a mess on the floor, and never before has an earlier work expressed my state of mind in the best possible way.

"Celestia for me, is like starry sky, I can watch her and admire her, however I'll never going to reached her. Ironically, she is the sun and destined to be alone for eternity, heating and worrying about others. While her desires burns, every desires is charred, until there are no less than ashes".
"Would you be satisfied only with this?"
"No" I looked at her without hesitation to respond with a tearful voice "But to give her a bit of joy and make her smile. I wouldn't mind lie down and roll over the her ashes. If she loves me, only 1% of the amount that I love her... for me would be worth".
Luna looked at me, couldn't tell if it was disappointment or pity, but she heard me. Heard every whine, every fear of my relationship with the princess, that I would be afraid and perhaps a little ashamed to share such feelings with my friends. She listened to my complaints about the way she treated me as if I was her world and suddenly it didn't matter anymore.
Luna hugged me twice tonight. The first one, when she found me bewildered and distraught, trying to take away like paints that have been glued to my skin and even rubbing with all my might, don't leave. Just as I tried to wrest the feelings I possessed, without success.
Luna hugged me, consoled me and asked me to tell her what had happened.
I told all again, she cradled me in her arms and wiped away the tears that flowed from my eyes, as if it were the most precious liquid the world.
Tonight, Luna, not the Princess, or the Goddess, provedbe be a great friend. I thank with all my heart, or well what's left it.
"Twilight" She called me, I looked, and I narrowed my eyes as her lips touched mine. It was sweet and pleasant, have her lips on mine.
But unfortunately my heart already belonged to someone else.
Art is to console those who are broken by life - Vincent Van Gogh.
Author's Note
I have no comments.
Let me know of any errors.
