Nobody Becomes An Artist

I did not become an artist    
Spun from a spiral lost angle    
Drifting between heart and soul and mind    
The muse entwined in mine    
Exploration of the corridors between vision and insight    
A sexually symbiotic existence of mindfucks from my muse    
That stimulate my senses with colors my eyes can't see    
Yet my heart continually pumps through unseen wings    
Lifting me to heights where there is no air to breathe    
Here I feel more alive than when walking the Earth alone    
Touching nature with my hands to see how it feels    
Watching birds sing songs too far away to hear    
And though my muse never touches my flesh, she caresses me    
Her thoughts are songs no birds know the notes to exhale    
She strokes my ego giving me the strength to write her verse    
Into the words I hear silently surging through my ears    
I sense the sound, I see her voice, I smell her breathe pass over my soul    
Her genetic code is painted on the walls of forgotten caves    
From times before man was supposed to be unborn    
When no woman was torn from his ribs to inspire the flames of creation    
Yet we are artists all    
From before we were born, in spirals of DNA    
Connecting spirits on the ladder of life    
Imbuing a spark into our hearts to express our pain    
Tear drops fall from clouded eyes as our storm begins to rain    
I did not have to become an artist    
Roared the thunder through my veins    
I never chose to be a troubadour    
It's just that I was born this way