A poem for the creative itch.

When midnight, let dreamer’s wake,

As faithful plucks at stringed hearts

Upheavals of creative craft then blaze

Sparkling healing stardust on scars

Dawning mumbling sleepwalk dots days

Unfolding the urgency of hypnotic chords

Way too far from ghostly corpses haste

Close enough to sculpting cosmic waltzes

Overflowing, the seasonal uncanny warps

while stirred by harmonica swift sparks

Cadences from whispering wisdom afar

For those who care enough for true art

Waving pallets on the dance floor sky

Shivering as the bells paint our humble souls

As we kindly recall an old belonging warmth

A kindled spirit by one newborn, wingless flight.