Art is made in the darkness
It is clothed in the darkest shadows
The ones that come to haunt and to despair

Art is made when the sun sinks
When it floats to the surface and rests
The moon rises in a illumination
And looks fondly to the world

Art is made cuddling the moon
Covers thrown over a bed
Eerie noises
Everything is transformed
The world looks so different when there is no light to balance out the darkness

Lying awake
My eyelids are heavy
But I can't sleep
Ideas are floating in my mind

The rain bounces off the window
The branches slick to my view like a thin trail of mud

Art has a way of making light when there isn't any
It appears when you least expect it
When you're unconscious but there's a cinema going on in your head
Dreams

The greatest poems, the sweetest notes
All come when the mind is refreshed
When the room is dark

If there wasn't any art
We'd all be living in a bubble of black
Even in the middle of the day

I thank God for the shadows
I thank God for the stars
Misery and pain seem useless and burdening
But it's from those times that we can create the most good

Art
Is made in the shadows