Inside my artist

I leave the front door open, and light the fire
I cannot bear to be alone in the solitude I seek.
I carry projects, unended, unbegun, 
Ectopic
Any step too far to see.
Sometimes in the blaze of my midday soul I write their midlife, I film their heart beating
By dawn they hang suspended asking
How Ever 
to touch our feet to the ground
When Ever
will the journey reveal a life dreamt of.