The toil of creation
The pencil spins at the beat of a scrambled mind
Innumerable images mix together
Creative homunculi are formed
And I search for synonyms for words I don’t know
Like a mortal playing God
I am especially clumsy giving birth to imperfect worlds
And even worse creating purity
Thus, like a cryptic creature
Many assure finding it, many more deny it’s existence
And still, there it is
Watching from afar, breathing in my hindhead
Waiting to be chased in the fog and leave me lost again
And so I give up, leaving the page blank
And the world begging to be shown.
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Have a beautiful day, beautiful soul. See you in the Kaleidoscope ❤.
