As We Draw - Draft

It may indeed be phantasy, when I essay to draw from all created things. Deep,
heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings. No fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity. So will
I build my future ? And the blue sky will be my roof, and the sweet smell that the wild
flower yields shall be the incense I will smell. Is it so impossible ? WE, the rustling man,
have a voice that answers the storm.
So, why are you so silent ? We just are born child...