Origins

The night is young,

And artistry lies in the dark.

The perfection I can taste,

Far away from my tedious arc.

Yet to be begin, I stood pondering on rainy a night.

But lightning struck, alas! The blackguard’s flight.

I exchanged evil for purity,

Leaving the sad days off.

Filled with energy,

The ground rumbled at my every call.

To say I deserve less, might be a far-stretch,

But words don’t echo to my hearing, they divert.

Simple to a lay man, advanced to an expert,

Are my words, which tell a story.

The genesis of my creativity,

That begun from a lonely moment.

Maybe my time of grace, maybe irrefutable fate,

Nevertheless, my ingenuity awakes.