March Moon (Original Poem)

 The Moon I gaze at tonight
Bright as morning light
However, it is at night
Making it king of the after hour
Above all else it towers
Tonight, me u empower

While I walk at this ungodly hour
My creativity blooming like a flower
It has finally started to rain
When I return I shall paint 
Everything I saw on the way
In my studio I'll toil
Till early day.

Brush in hand
All night I stand
On canvas I interpret
the sights I've seen
Trees in silhouette
Grass a yellow green

The oil wet and shiny
Reminds me of a past lover
In my arms she stood tiny
Emerging from the water
Slowly like a lion stalking it prey
The sun is now up it is early day

Still, at my easel I lay
Here I shall stay
Until my eyes close
My strokes elegant like a rose
Reaching the top of the canvas
With my toes

I stand before thee painting
My own creation
Is this how the heavenly creator
Felt as he slapped on earth its equator
On sabbath he did rest
To evaluate the time he did invest
In creating this world we occupy
Im guily of breaking his commandments
For art is but a beautiful lie
Which in turn is a paradox
I spread truth with my brush
And I don't even try

The true art comes from within
If that is a sin
Then im as big a sinner 
As the evil one below
Look into my world 
The gateway to my soul
Without art there'd only be a hole

The road and the trees
the grass and the bees
Birds and raccoon
And most importantly
The March moon.