An Artist's Imagination
From the Absolute planes of Nothing imagined,
I create something profound, like flames that dare to dance upon the wind.
A fair course of intrigue springs like a waterfall; droplets in my palm,
Creating artistic expression.
I am who I am, and therefore I remain to be,
No one can surely can blame me.
Maybe a mad mind with ridiculed fingertips of petrifying prose so glorious.
But for shame, it will not defame my steady position.
Each day I breathe in specific forms of Art
As it constantly recreates me with my perception granted fair;
And inside the core of my being, like a sore slowly healing,
I am the artist, elating feeling through poetry and screening.
Surprise package, always retreating.
Super living being; only wanting to be human for once,
Cannot be who she's not supposed to be.
I'm gliding stars, riding a
Colloquial sail, within the waves of crimson decadence.
So I make words powerful once again, a grand masterpiece.
My eloquent way of speaking not treated fair because it's not said.
So here I am, but don't Entertain me,
Don't try to be who I am.
No matter what days bring to me, letting me remember my anxiety,
They'll never change me.
Whenever I hear sighed footsteps of the ones I expect,
They don't want to run away again.
To the surrendering locusts and silent lambs,
Never forget transcendental innocence retained.
And be cleansed of how you see yourself,
We are all a part of art on a Grand masterpiece.
We are a Legion of Paintings,
A frolic of Prose and delightful poetry,
A spread-forth of confidence will soothe you,
When you realize the true meaning:
We are all artists and we are all Free.
