Inspiration!

it is accessing the dream realm

while in the waking

art is the train station,

the ticket is a willing mind

where do dreams come from…?

what are those mists,

protean,

hazy, baby blue,

what medium is best suited

for their condensing?

how can I take you

where I have been?

no —

that’s the wrong question —

how can I let it

better take me

where it wishes?

for those mists are animate

for those mists are conscious

for those mists have thousands of hands

and where they nudge me

I’ve no choice

I’ve no say

what do you will of me?

how can I pay homage to you?

is my ode in dance?

is my ode in song?

is my ode in war?

is my ode sitting at the dividing line

and laying down my sword

knowing I cannot die

because those mists claim me as their own?

or is my ode in kindness —

is my ode in loving the broken,

is my ode in trying my best to be everyone’s missing puzzle piece?

is that love?

what is it?

make my life a living art form.

make this whole life a song.

make this whole life an ode to you

Oh,

I can see you in all things —

Nothing is solid!

wrong are you

if you honestly believe

that science limits transcendence.

for that ode,

for that song,

teaches

that nothing is solid.

that the manifest world

is thought

is dream

the artist of this cosmos

was inspired by his consort

he lays in a raft

along the lazy river of fate

and daydreams.