Artist Within

I dreamt I was an artist; A prize winning writer. But, I'm a blank sheet of paper; a beaten down prize fighter. What I called enlightenment, was a dismal spark, A fire never ignited; just a pointless compass mark. Perhaps my self reliance is not what it should be? For selfish pride and poetry, go hand and hand with me. So, I hired a mighty Captain who sees further than I can; Threw caution to It's wind and sailed His master plan. Now my hand moves fluently, And my paper fills with art. Creativity is flowing, Through It's hand to my heart.