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.
Copyright © Randy Biffany | Year Posted 2022
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