Sonnet Upon Creative Process

I wish that I could write a catchy song,

To play without a stiffened hand and mind,

To sing melodiously of right and wrong

While leaving somber, gloomy thoughts behind.

I’d weave and prune and form a garland strong

In fragrant flowers of remembrance and awe.

This awe so bright will light my eyes, prolong

Into artistic forms from what I saw,

And overflow with worlds of paper breath

Which by a holy force will breathe new life

Into some midnight soul. Not by my breath.

Yet many eyes will see a leaflet rife

With my old scrawls, belying light mystique

Within its words: an empire fantastique.