Painter of Minds

I once met a man, in the forrests of Tibet. His counternance was pale yet his name was Robinette. Past the clearing of the Belt and down into the bottomneck stream is where he lived in isolation with a gift of crafting dreams With just a scroll and his ink he could conquer Goliath a GIFT THAT enscribes him a legend, a self-imposed pariah His mind was unhinged so the words were unhindered, never once did he blink,lest his memories squandered he would wield that pen, the greatest painter of minds would surrender each soul with the lies he devised he would keep an accounting of the words in each page in all of those scribbles, were worlds to be named. Those words made me sleep, guarding my peace rendering this beast to a ransom release The sentences were a rhythm that I could breathe the punctuation of which, was smooth-calm light breeze As I browed, frowned into the pages that were So too the the vast letters my eyes chauffeured mY senses mangled, my vision blurred this was more than a vision, this was my life's metaphor So the PAINTER MINDS,did paint me a dream scratched out my boundaries and stroked in a stream created new paradise, and new heavens unearthed but the later was not to be, and the former re-emerged.