White Walled Universe

They're nothing short of infinite, these thoughts, these rich ideas of mine; though, crippled in reality, for which there is no parting line. Because I cannot slip away from that which is sustaining me, I'll mask the concrete sky and earth with thin, artistic ivory. Though blank at first, these paper sheets are much like panes of ductile glass, reflecting everything I am, as I control their supple mass. The mind, much like a document, can be erased--or worse, destroyed! Although, I am exempt from such when tending to my pearly void. The creativity I house, evolving even while I sleep, will one day change the concrete world with notions I have sown and reaped. And so, imagination reigns; it drizzles from a flimsy sky, within my white walled universe where kernel-concepts never die.