eye corner

There is some muse-like presence that he sees in dreams, forever in the act of turning away from him, who keeps repeating:
that you fail to be inspired by the beauty around you is your greatest hope.

He takes this as some odd unhealthy creepy negativity delivered in seductive tones, that means he is attracted to never creating something worthwhile.
What it really means though is that he himself must deliver an account that is of himself, say the thing that life has not shown him, tell the story that life has not told him, describe the beauty that he senses but has not been shown by the light of the sun that he knows, that keeps alive in him the notion that there is more to say that has not been said yet, a nameless More that he doesn’t know when he turns his face to this world, but that he feels unceasingly.