This insomnia is delight.
As the colored walls close in on my mind,
and the lights dim to their motherly nest
I spark within my dimensions.

The flowers bloom and the sunset’s perpetual.
The beasts climb mountains,
and ocean waves crash their crests upon humanity.

“Let it be, let it be.”
The Beatles play my melodic vibe.
I splash paint upon light,
I replace a pick with fragile, discordant fingers.
My words begin to rhyme.

My creation is in awful spirit-
I nurture with one-hundred years to live.
I’m searching for the inanimate truth,
as I took from the world- I wish to give.

I pose with wondrous mind to eyes,
defining correctness becomes absurd.
My ideas wake to a reality.
I am and always will be,
an artist.