let yourself go

sketchbook scratches fade into white,
blankly waiting for something colorful.
writing by the side of window light,
gazing across for something wonderful.

inspiration is scarcely understood,
whispered low by saints long desired.
my muses have left me something good,
an echo of love crystallized and fired.

holding a sacred star behind my chest,
clothing cannot hide its golden shine.
now i see my life and love at its best,
a figure drawn from an ancient line.

made ignoble by the forgotten virtues
that older dreamers gave allegiance.
their shades of captured sky line blues
blotted into greens by sunshine sense.

sitting down at that same fated brush,
reserved for her softer hand and art,
my world blooms into an excited hush,
as I draw out plans for a bluer heart .