Sometimes, when I’m doing nothing, I convince myself
That I could be embarking on an adventure.
An adventure of my consciousness.
Distilling human nature
Existential questions
The yearnings of the heart
The mind
The body
Through a painting,
In swift, decisive brushstrokes that glint
In the oily light
Of the nightime.
Of course, I must sacrifice my sleep for revelations
That flow through the joints that guide my tools.
While the world sleeps, I will labor,
And I will enjoy it.
Through a short story,
I will bring the reader to tears
With my descriptions
And insight into humanity
In an extended metaphor.
It will be complex but not inaccessible,
Elevated but not pretentious.
Through dance,
My limbs will arc through the air;
Generously pad against the ground.
The stars will align,
And things will seem sane again,
If only for a moment.
But first,
I must wait,
And wait I shall.
I’ll wait for a train that will never arrive
At the crossroads of fantasy
And delusion.