While her project is nascent, she labors with profundity
Sweating in expiration for some breathless inspiration
Parched lips callously entrap salty-cracker thoughts
Leaving her hallowed pillar of strength in a terrible thirst
There's a plane that floats like a bug way high in the sky
In line with the eyes, but surprise surprise! If it's not the only thing she'll see today. [so lost in thought]
It is for her I seek a story: a tale of glory; a fable,
or maybe a piece without morals
Even a heavy-handed soliloquy – I could try.
For if it drew a smile and a sparkle to those eyes
I would be a million dollars richer, supposing money meant the world
If I held the power to find a leviathan topic
I'd dice it, I'd chop it. I'd digest it really good!
Then spit high the insoluble bits towards the sky, for this would surely change the view
Let the sun capture the falling angles of this precipitated poignancy
And the clouds of my mind let mull inside-out and over-under
Tumbling gracefully 'cross a newly infused particulate sky
Then swallowed by a horizon that stretches forever-wide
Resident of this fickle and volatile sky
Continuously molded by the magnetism of a satellite of lunacy
Partner to the spotlight that keeps it glowing bright.
Where ever lies treasured creativity?
The kind that imbues dreams
Seldom seen are the outlines of a masterpiece
Intangible fortune to have it and to hold!
But one finds inspiration amongst the ruins of crumbled patience
Of another day's deliberation: pondered, shed from mind,
or auctioned away
To highest bidder; collector of fragmented attention
Who cares not for poetic ambition or creative intent
Only fodder-finding to fuel the great bon-fire
Catalyst for the life-consuming project aimed high
Employment of a fresh air-traffic controller enthroned high in tower
Tuning the air-waves and 'okaying' the random projectile fly-by
Spit playfully from the mouth of the precocious mind
Some spend not the adequate time to find
The silhouette of inspiration, representing all we seek
Meek: Like shadow at the mercy of the sun
lingers far, or dances near, two steps where I am
Until the moment appears when 'there' is 'here'
And both of us spark great ideas
Where we'll embrace:
Within a beautifully imaginative place.
Sweating in expiration for some breathless inspiration
Parched lips callously entrap salty-cracker thoughts
Leaving her hallowed pillar of strength in a terrible thirst
There's a plane that floats like a bug way high in the sky
In line with the eyes, but surprise surprise! If it's not the only thing she'll see today. [so lost in thought]
It is for her I seek a story: a tale of glory; a fable,
or maybe a piece without morals
Even a heavy-handed soliloquy – I could try.
For if it drew a smile and a sparkle to those eyes
I would be a million dollars richer, supposing money meant the world
If I held the power to find a leviathan topic
I'd dice it, I'd chop it. I'd digest it really good!
Then spit high the insoluble bits towards the sky, for this would surely change the view
Let the sun capture the falling angles of this precipitated poignancy
And the clouds of my mind let mull inside-out and over-under
Tumbling gracefully 'cross a newly infused particulate sky
Then swallowed by a horizon that stretches forever-wide
Resident of this fickle and volatile sky
Continuously molded by the magnetism of a satellite of lunacy
Partner to the spotlight that keeps it glowing bright.
Where ever lies treasured creativity?
The kind that imbues dreams
Seldom seen are the outlines of a masterpiece
Intangible fortune to have it and to hold!
But one finds inspiration amongst the ruins of crumbled patience
Of another day's deliberation: pondered, shed from mind,
or auctioned away
To highest bidder; collector of fragmented attention
Who cares not for poetic ambition or creative intent
Only fodder-finding to fuel the great bon-fire
Catalyst for the life-consuming project aimed high
Employment of a fresh air-traffic controller enthroned high in tower
Tuning the air-waves and 'okaying' the random projectile fly-by
Spit playfully from the mouth of the precocious mind
Some spend not the adequate time to find
The silhouette of inspiration, representing all we seek
Meek: Like shadow at the mercy of the sun
lingers far, or dances near, two steps where I am
Until the moment appears when 'there' is 'here'
And both of us spark great ideas
Where we'll embrace:
Within a beautifully imaginative place.
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