"Portrait Of A Writer"

"Let your spirit rise and journey far on wings of imagination"

Two eyes lost in the stars in search of wonders,
Thy longings are heavy young, ardent dreamer
Chasing back pages of adventures renewed,
Few words written but so many pages to choose
For one does not need to say much,
To arouse his queerest comprehensions

Speak of genius that he takes in by heart
Taking them with ambition as of the likes of Hannibal and Bonaparte
For talent does recognize the impressions of genius
This genius that leads to magic
Oh what a treat and how quaint of style,
Contemplating the world through the eyes of a child
And with this a dreamer can't explain,
Nor does he even try
Why he does not need wings of feather to fly

Soar high beyond pink clouds that never shroud his bliss,
And stop by heaven to give an angel a kiss
The city below dances in the moonlight like fireflies frantic,
Lights shimmering
It moves him for his heart beats,
"I am a romantic!"

Like bells chiming with church's song,
His heart coos, churns,then cries in religious reminder
How soothing yet unnerving was her touch on his heart,
Oh so strong
But like the hunger fed by Eve's apple,
One has to wonder if it's really worth all this struggle?

Lest the tale ends tragic as of the songs of Orpheus,
Forever lost and dismayed for his beloved Eurydice
For destiny's dwindle is what death's raven brings,
So he covers his ears
And looks into her eyes,
As that cursed fowl sings
Then watch her drift away from days enticing and lore,
So yet another dreamer left calling in the stillness for his Lenore

Voices different,
Calling from the eerie distance
They talk but they don't understand,
His silent deterioration
Wandering broken in this forest of ash and soot,
Of what was that is now amiss and forlorn
Chunks of wood with faces,
Dull, void, and blankness tainted
The years have only taught them to scorn,
His misery
His insistence to make a stand,
With one foot barely on dry ground
The other sinking deep in the sand

Which leaves time for reflection,
Of what has gone past
He only needs to look yonder for something new,
A startling relief given for the view
And behold the vastness of ocean with the sky burning amber,
Flying carefree above
An angel,
With kisses oh so familiar
So he writes them down in words that should be,
Telling visions of hope that only he can see
How the story of life is on that ocean stained,
Always changing so he makes the most of what he can be
With errands to do and promises to make,
With them a hundred chances to make a thousand mistakes
And yes the hurt holds him down,
Feeling his persistence seem to flee
But only to stand up four times when he falls at three,
So we find that a dreamer is most beautiful when he is in pain
However morbid this claim may be

A rare gift,
Earned with the pain that he has to bear
A blessed burden that no one else seems to share,
And knowing this a dreamer realizes
Just how alone he really is,
A snowflake drifting in the tropics
So sometimes it may seem surreal even for the young ,ardent dreamer,
Writing poems that inspire poets
And that is the world seen revolving in this portrait of a writer,
Yet I still have many more sights to see
As I soar with the stars tonight,
Even higher.