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.