A more perfect vacuum

Coming to terms with my particular muse has been an arduous journey. I believe in the romantic notion of a muse, for it is certainly not me who produces any of the things I create, at least those with any merit, and it is she as well with certainty. I have certainly been a great disappointment to her, for my fingers are too clumsy to play the melodies she generously bestows upon me, and she is very impatient, never repeating anything if not caught the first time. She has little interest or time for words, though I insist on lyrics, she grants them sparingly, and only in fragments.