The Inexhaustible Burden Of Creation Poem by Yohan Confectioner

Beginning a poem is the hardest:
Your pen nestles over the paper
And the only guarantee is the insecurity
Of your thoughts and feelings.

How you try, in artistic vain
To translate those feelings into words,
Immaculately, Meticulously,
Like a pianists' fingers waltzing over the keyboard.

Your words aren't poetry yet,
But you can visualize the pianist,
The touch and sound of her poetry,
Tinkling with each caressing touch.

Her head gently swaying from side to side,
And the soft look of her closed eyes
Leading her into the deep ruptures
Of the poetic present.

Her smoothness is what I envy,
Her sound was what I craved,
Her touch, an infinite yearning,
And her poetry, an insatiable thirst.

My pen hasn't touched paper yet,
Though the night is done.
I lay back under the wide expanse of my mind,
With the inexhaustible burden of creation.