The Mind Of A Poet

The mind of a poet never seems to rest, 

For it is always questioning it's  own existence.

Spending countless night searching for God,

And every day looking to decipher 

The prophecies of the universe. 

The mind of a poet is restless,

For the thoughts that flood the mind 

Gives way to insomnia.

It will sit as a never setting moon 

Never to halt the light of the sun,

So in the night 

It can illuminate an ocean of ideas.

The mind of a poet 

Is a maze within a labyrinth. 

That has been lost to the lowest levels of hell.

A diabolic wonderland 

Formed out of a conundrum of chaos

It is madness in the most aesthetic way.

~ Tony Paradise's Poet ~