By: Voice0ne 

There was an initial existence,

            one to call his own.

A force of relativity,

            that faltered outside of home.

With in his walls of dark security,

            he took action to console.

With utensils honed for similar creativity,

            the man and his hands obtain objectivity as a whole.

An image in all it’s entirety,

            expressed a single man’s sole.

Overlaying foundational imagination,

            delineates life to be so dull.

A realization so bold to exception,

            leaves the mind free to wander and lull.

The moon exposed in illumination,

            as if a tide, the mind is pushed with a pull.

Released from captivity,

            exponential power strains rampant.

But in a realm of creativity,

            the man discerning right from wrong is no longer reluctant.

The mind drifts through tracks of curiosity,

            and the man,

suffocates his lungs,

with drowning resentment.