GOD OF MY WORLD

Bequeath me a book,
A feather and some ink,
So I can scribble the truth;
In solitude though, in these pages I dexterously cruise;
Smite my muse, leaving not a bruise...
In savoury words, I can paint thee gold;
I can make thee bold;
Ask, and I can give thee both...
I am the god of my world,
In sunken reverie and ink, my creation is spelt;
All six and seven, I can give thee wealth;
Yet slumber not for Muse is felt...
Heat freezes, and the cold melts,
Lazarus in jeans and a gold belt,
Apprehend my miracles;
I’m a saviour without blasphemy;
I am what you need…
Proclaim me, and I will colour thy dream.