Mind awash with visions
Of what could be...
Sifting through people and faces
Part blurred, part flattered in different places
Eyes on parchment
Mind awash with visions
Of what should be..
Quill descends, heartbeat ascends
A surgery of lyrics,
All else transcends...
Of things mundane,
Of pleasure and pain,
Of abstract musings,
Wordly masterpeices he paints
With imprint of soul
Is born a manuscript
Unspoken truths and more
He does there encrypt
In lyrical dance
In unbreakable trance
He revels.
Ponders he not
Where his canvas will wind
Eternal joy reigns inside of his mind
That it was written
Ponders he not
On an augment of rhyme
Of cacophonous critics
Or just perhaps a dash of lime
Time doesn't flow backwards
Neither shall his hand
Delve he doesn't
In earnest lexicon
For mere decor
Nor on any suggestion
But for want of the word
To be
It is but its fate
Thrives he not
On things technical
'Tis but for mere teachers
The not-so-gifted ones.
Quill ascends
Exaltation.
And nothing else matters....
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