creativity

When the heathens cross the hill of forgetting

i will be doomed to be alight at the pire for the sin of ingenuety 

and my worship of the godess of innovation

they will shout zealot at my funeral and dance on my grave

to stifle my creative justice is to shun the green pastures of the alluring 

your poestry and art is the horizons sunrise and days moonfall

yet you cover them in the curtains of ignorance

heaving its heavy drapes across the minds of the noble and gifted

watching the play of the souless dance on a dreary stage while you cover the color of ebulience-cc.