Sonnet 1

The strangest musings of the eye unseen
Do mould, and shape, and sculpt cerebral clay.
The womb of the primordial machine
Does birth a new life ev'ry night and day.
The physical and flesh - corporeal,
Each sensory experience perceiv'd,
Breathes new life to the incorporeal
And thus creates from that which is receiv'd.
The ecstasy of true discovery,
Of thoughts uncovered and ideas reveal'd,
The true Creative's best recovery
From all that people and the world conceal'd.
Fear and desire live hand in hand for I
Whose thoughts be shared lest, failure in, I die.