by Cheryl Owen Wilson
Universal fingers crawl along the edges of darkness as I doze,
pulling the shades of my word’s light to a finite close.
While fanciful creatures come out of their hiding,
wanting to soar on night stars, riding.
They speak to me in words never before spoken,
unveiling worlds waiting to be woken.
I accept their invitation to roam through the Universe,
amidst ancient galaxies we magically traverse,
embracing this knowledge eating at the edges of my being,
setting my soul on fire, forever seeking.
Centuries pass in the blink of an eye,
minutes and years blurred by times fateful sigh
These are the wonderings of my mind,
as it plays hide and seek though infinities of time
Words continually unfold through portal’s pricked by night.
I am at peace as I once again, take flight.
The poem wove through my mind, as I created the painting, and would not leave after the painting was completed until placed on the page. I am forever in search of the beginning, the spark, the muse causing an artist to create. Can you remember the first thought sending you off in a months/years long quest to create a work of art, a story? I enjoy hearing artist’s answers. Please give me yours.