An explosion of fantasy, an imaginative design,
A tiny hardwood canvass, can transform into a shrine.
Each flick of your paintrbush, gives life unto my dreams,
It sets the flood gates open, and hence my thoughts shall stream.

There simply are no limits, when it comes down to your mind,
Creation is a simple task, and it grows, deep inside.
Reality is twisted, as you make way for your own.
Bringing in your new ideas, and pushing out the old.

I see the world is changing, but maybe just too fast,
I wonder if the things I make, will ever, ever last.
Are we the foundations, of generations yet to arrive,
Survival of the fittest, as each day we aim to strive.

Already things of childhood, have vanished, never to return,
Memories, forgot, demolished, left to burn.
Although perhaps this is a good thing, making way for all things new,
As thoughts are distributed, then explode unto you!

Sand upon the beach, mirrors this in ways,
As the castles of today, fall prey beneath the waves.
It's the desert of tranquility, and an industrial estate,
It's anything you want my dear, its absolutely great.

I lay my paintbrush down now, and stare at what I have done,
It's a masterpiece to my eyes, and therefore I have won.
I place it in my gallery, and on the day I die,
I leave to you the space I held, for the visions of your eye.