Whilst you snore in your room as big as a senate,
In the obscurity of night, I create thousands of planets.
Non-routined schedule is what my life you call,
My improvisation possesses the speed of light,
And yet appears to crawl.
I can say, that I know, as the world and I have been kins,
I adore engraving your gentle virtues and neatly carve your sins.
I don't sleep so as to make it happen,
Uncover the hidden hell, behind the hypothetical heaven.
In the silence of dark, empty terrain or a park,
I baptize my fingers with the potion to write,
Retiring from what's called society, so that I can get enough of quiet.
I don't sleep so as to make it happen,
The world's familiar with eight planets, yet I only know seven.
So lie down and go faint, to make your tired senses jump and twirl,
While I'm awake till the commencement of dawn to create another world.

Creativity lies in the obscurity of night!