The Passion of An Artist

Dark circles under my eyes. I haven’t slept many nights. How to write? What to write? I haven’t written for years. World’s cacophony has blocked My ears and I pretend to be mute. But I can still hear that galloping horse is running all over my frames. That gorgeous white horse is carrying the loads of my dreams. His motionless eyelids are fixed at the end of this enormous sky. I walk above the depressed clouds with my magic legs and I sculpt the time of pain with a lot of love.