The Pen of the Poet

Once I sat down to write.

I willed to write something wonderful.

Something, which would change the world for the better.

But not a thing would come from my pen!

What is it I thought, that wills the pen to write?

What is it that makes the words flow?

Is it the mind of the poet?

Or is it the mind of a power much higher than mine?

Who willed the earth and the sky?

The poet? Nay, it was God I say.

If God willed the waters and the skies,

Why can’t he will what the poet’s pen writes?

The poet is his child, one who walks his earth.

God can will what the pen of the poet writes.

God is the master.

The poet is but his beloved child.

If the God of the earth and sky wills the pen of the poet to change the world,

He will change it.

But if he wills it not,

The pen of the poet remains without the words to write.