I Only Hold the Pen

A poem that comes at night without a thought in mind Words appearing outside a plan yet finds a place to opine They seem to lie in wait, for a chance to take a bow completing the lines in need and leaving me to wonder how Words, plucked out of the air while clamoring around for a rhyme And battling the thief of words, an unknown in this space and time Not seeming to be apart, yet, volunteering for the issue at hand Slipping in under the radar searching for a master plan A poem appears on my page built with suspicious means Words written without a thought at least, to me it seems The poem master comes riding high and lifts a calloused hand My horse, running with an empty saddle; I only hold the pen The master knocking down the blocks that mute the good ideas Unbolting the door that locks the mystery where useful words Appear He rides to ensure success when the wreckers of the brain come in I’m at a loss to his confusing ways, I only hold the pen