The words flow
Through my veins and
Come pouring out of my soul.

The ink
That stains the page,
Creating new worlds for others to see.

Inspiration came
When I was young and incorrigible;
Now I take what was given
And create my masterpiece.

What creeps in the dark corners of my mind
Has haunted me for years.
These words must be written or perish.

I push my determination to form the ink
Into inspiration for others,
If only they could reach the world.

Someday the words that I write
Will be printed and inspire
Those that read them.

An author is what am I
For the creative wells of my mind
Still flow and whisper their stories.

I write with a powerful desire.
Soon my works will spread
Like wild fire in dry Montana grass
And I will finally be heard.