Envisioning the perfect landscape in a dream world
Where all beauty is unmatched and perfect
The painter lifts his brush, and illustrates whirls
Focusing all his being on becoming the architect
He drives out all doubts and leaves himself vulnerable to fate

The rivers, mountains ebb and flow
The painting unfinished but still it glows
A slight mishap, the wrong mixture of color
Not a problem, it doesn't seem any duller
He drives out the worry that he can't fix imperfections

The painter will never stop for a rest until it is complete
He wears his hand, minds, eyes, numb go his feet
The hallucinations of the perfect landscape make him re-focus
Once started strong, he feels weak and hopeless
Yet he drives out the fear of loneliness

Finally, he steps aside to peer at his masterpiece
Decades upon decades, he feels deceased
What he saw in front of him, he'd rather be blind
Realizing that his vision poisoned his hand and mind
He drives out the illusion of a perfect landscape

He begins to realize he drove out reality
And upon waking, he and his mind finally agree
That the painting wasn't his to begin with
And he was the creator of his own cursed myth
He sets the painting aside and grieves

© DylanC