There is a fountain of youth within creativity
no matter how wise you have grown over the years.
Wrinkled like an oyster by the excess water,
world weary and complacent,
We stand under torrents of playfulness
that shower the artist with progress
despite any kind of eventual unfaithfulness.
The splash-back is severe.
In a school of creative minds
all the lonesome artists stalk greater works
with the slow and calculating grimace of a shark,
ready to devour whenever nutrition is needed.
I really don’t mean to sound crass,
but it’s do or die in the inventive mind
always resulting in bloodshed from books,
cartoons, comics, music or movies
and every aesthetic medium in between.
So, in the pool below the fountain of creativity,
a deluge of ideas can be found.
Be it the child at 8, or the old man at 80
The spark of innovation,
that creative ignition
which lights the fire in a writers head,
has the miraculous property of staying alight
in the seas of inspiration.
Keeping the older author young,
or the younger author going.
The moral is this – on days when there’s nothing to be said,
those days in which I feel my pen has run out
someone lights a candle, which burns with a stimulating light
carrying clever minds through the dark, unexplored oceans
of artistic might.