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.
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