Viruses, bugs, age, grief, broken bones, all insults to work, but we agree to be insulted, yes? No ego, no insult. Let it go. The muse of daily life who pays the taxes, the muse of distraction, the muse of sleepless nights, the muse of dulled mind: new temples for each. The muse of pink pollen painting the streets. The muse of taking the cat to the vet. The muse of surrender. The muse of energy wasted and the muse that fills the void. A modest temple for each, made of driftwood and broken railroad ties.