It pulls images from the air
And makes visions from nothing, yet nothing is something
It drips sour sweat on a parched surface as it struggles
To entertain, to build, to mold
It is not one, but many, building its life as if building the dream
A daydream of lines, and words
Visions of grandeur, visions of truth and lies
It matters not, for it is a thing for entertaining, for pleasure
Guidance is not merely for the saints, it is for all
Hypocritical passages, and rhymes of mirth
To feed the angry and deprived souls
A factual cookie for the hungry mind
Consumed in a soundless frenzy
A master of wit, a taker of souls, a mind-bending energy
Threatening to take from you, all that you believe in
Dark knight in an errant battle of whimsical music to the ears
A sweetness to the lips, of those willing to taste
A bearing on an edge rolls, this is known
Yet a bearing in the mind is silent, and refuses to grow
A gentle musing forms, and is tracked
As it travels throughout your mind, your body, your being
You struggle to find a meaning to the answers given
Guidance is not merely for the saints, it is for all
To be a maker of destiny is a gift it is said
To take destiny is not the will of the fates
Life begins, ends, and starts again, a cycle of neverending struggles and yet
You look to the maker for guidance
As sour sweat drips on a parched surface, you grow
Feeling more like a saint, more like a god, but it is not in the hands of nature
It is in the hands of the magician
Who pulls images from the air
Making something from nothing, visions from the mind
Scrawling unknown words on the tablet, the work takes form
Bringing the daydream to reality, if only for a moment
A blink is a passage of time, you must resist the temptation
For the being who creates is a maker, a maker of dreams, of art, of life
Leading you to a higher place of light
A writer, a leader, a teacher of rhyme, and words
A creature of undying fortitude that stands strong against the darkness
Guidance is not merely for the saints, it is for all, all that will accept the challenge
Answering the call of the unfortunate one
That refuse to heed the imaginings of their mind
The writer grips the prophetic quill, dips and is done
Signing this work as a makers piece
A maker, a dreamer, a giver of life
A soul without longing
A soul without want
A creature of learning, and teaching
A maker is one who is all
Damon Murray
January 14, 1998
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