Midnight Musing: My Muse is at Play

Midnight;
My muse is at play.
Should I fear to write,
The thoughts,
The feelings of the darkest night?
My muse commands,
Demands,
The words go not unheard.
Unspoken words,
Somewhere they lie.
Are they destined thus to die,
Perhaps to other realms, then fly,
Enraptured,
Not to be captured
Like a tiny butterfly?

A poet’s muse is playful yet demanding.