Transcendental
I sit surrounded by books and blankets,
left free to run scorched ideas go wild;
You feed a poet on stars and rockets,
set a fire inside leaving them beguiled;
Gravity’s strong as it tries to cage you,
never turn prisoner to what you see;
Transcendental plane amplifies sky blue
prose springs to life with curiosity;
Limits can not exist for a writer,
closed off their ink eventually dries;
I grab that pillow a little tighter
every piece of me will now energize;
Disappearing in someone else’s words,
your imagination reaps the rewards.
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