With my entire might, all this white I must fight

This spec of light, made the color spectrum seem right

In my mind it shines so bright

The space for errors is so tight

Envision it beautifully, vividly depicting every detail

Now getting every trail and stroke on without fail

That’s the trial, the test I must best without rest

Sleep will dull my inspiration, ruin my interest

A world to create, a universe to illustrate

But the state of my creative gate has been blocked of late

I’m demonstrating, what they saying is a painters block

But the image I got, won’t stop pounding the lock

The sheer bliss and excitement I would feel

When this kiss of mental colors will be real

When the paint has stained the canvas and my vision remained

As true as my mind’s eye strained itself to ensure it wasn’t a feint

That I can prove, I can move to the groove of the pencils melody

All my agony and misery drowned in my wrist’s melancholy

 My palm holds the tool, which will make reality look a fool

The only rule is to lose what makes you keep your cool

And be drenched in your own emotions

Taken away by the motions of your own epic ocean

As the brush goes up and down, my heart starts to pound

The world turns round and round and I hear a sound

A rhythm to which my hands move and create life so sweet

I stop and notice that it is my own heartbeat

The reason I lost the ability, to willingly create a picture of my mind state

Is because I conducted treason, by being unreasonably reluctant to wait

Tried to force creativity which made my pool of dreams seem empty

 Unable to tap my dormant imagery, my own greed has become my enemy

After my inspiration was lost, immediately all my paid jobs were tossed

So all the money that was flossed in the cracks of my dreams

Seemed to be a drug, which had me acting as SO many fiends

Losing focus on the art of creating, itself

Losing everything, gave me the greatest wealth

Back to the essence of being the supreme presence

For my creations, which came into existence by life’s lessons

The white canvas now holds my entire imagination’s feature

Painting is a drug on its own, as I get to create my visions of the future