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The Muse and the Fireplace

I have no use for a fireplace.
My world is heated, electric.
My sheets are warm and comforting.
Sometimes I turn on the fan.

And yet, there is a fireplace
In my room. I light it
Twice a year, sometimes less.
What for, you ask?

For inspiration:
For an ancient muse,
One so great,
One who has no use for appliances.
She is a being of spirit and magic,
And I welcome her graciously
To my writing desk.
She watches over me,
An angel of the ages,
Trying to usher in the masterpiece
that eludes me still.

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