Sonnet - Epiphany 3; Quill

Often from the night I'm suddenly

Wide awake, eyes squinting in the dark,

Words dancing together beautifully, 

Thrumming, throbbing round a central spark. 

Leaping from the bed, I must transcribe

The magic of the moment, lest it fade

And blend into a lost, subconscious vibe, 

Deep within the black from where t'was bade.

And so, with vision gained and sharpened skill,

Ambition's wish endeavored to achieve, 

I wield my talisman -- the sacred quill, 

And aim to capture that which I conceive.

And then, once Poet's burden has been shed, 

A quick review (or two), then back to bed. 

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- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.