You Bring Out the Creator in Me
You bring out the creator in me.
The clean sheet of paper.
The barren, white canvas.
The unknown world
that hasn’t been made to be.
The pen in my hand.
You are my muse, my inspiration,
the method to my madness.
Plaguing my thoughts and words,
even as I lie in bed,
wishing to take form, to exist.
You guide my mind and hand as I write.
Within these hands you bring out the ability to create.
The intangible into the physical.
The real into fantasy.
It matters only what I desire…
All I need is a clear image, and my hand makes it real.
No matter how pure,
or no matter how putrid.
What I make is mine, and mine alone.
No matter whoever else says.
Within this mind you bring out the ability to guide.
The action, and reaction.
Of either the physical or the metaphysical.
The will of the creation is the will of the creator.
The rules of th