When I am painting

When I am painting
I balance on a dark horses back
I have no bridle to guide him
Only my left hand in his mane

And a crumpled map
On my minds ground
From which sometimes
Diamonds and gold may be found

I rejoice in my loudest voice
Queen of the gallop
there is a breathing back and forth between us 
Puzzle maze entrances and caves
   
And sometimes we return to the same spot in a painting
We can almost see the answer
But he wanders or he stops

There there by the river
Is our painting!
There look I tell him 
See what I have done
He bucks me to the ground

He is gone but I have it
And sometimes it is forlorn
Or forsaken
Sometimes it is good
And I am forgiven
See what I have made!
But it would not have happened
Without the dark horse within