Teddy Haskel

The paper before me
Blank to my sight
Do I dab on my creativity?
And awaken it from its plight?
A boy lays dead
Tears dried from his eyes
Even though no words are said
I can hear his melancholic cries

The depth of the night
Beckons my calling
A candle guides my sight
As he takes shape, the paper darkening
In my ears falls a distant howl
The darkness empowering, engulfing
I feel "him" beside me, an eerie prowl
I walk out to see, a full moon risen, glowing, menacing

Back! Back it says
Finish what you have begun
Numbered were his days, now he lays
But you mere mortal, from your burdens, you shan't run
Painfully, as I drew and drew, bizarreness I felt
That each stroke was guided, my head began to pound
In the end, I had not stopped to look, I had not dealt
I chose to close him within my papered bound


Soon sleep overtook as the candle flickered out
I was tired somehow, drained of my last drop
As the day broke, in daylight I secretly sought
The boy who played my nights, unto my paper he hopped
I was strong to see that this I didn't indeed draw
As his eyes was full of sorrow, his eyes with no tomorrow
I was no artist, yet this burned in deep and began to gnaw
I knew that he was there, guiding me, with his angelic lore

Yisha