Pen and paper confuse me.
Their vastness is impossible to fathom.
The meaning is right before my eyes, yet I don't see it.
I cannot read it.
When droning voices read classic tales of literature,
A loud buzz fills my ears.
When I am told to write I cannot,
My hand is stiff and my inkwell is dry.
But when inspiration seizes hold of my mind,
My hand is ready and my inkwell is full.
The cogwheels of my mind begin to turn,
Inventing new and better ideas.
I cannot hear the outside noise,
above the whir of the ever-turning wheels.
Away chugs my train of thought to foreign lands.
Away to the sea,
and the sky,
The great unknown of the wilderness is inviting,
While the crowded cities scare me.
Dodging in between the rails,
away chugs my train of thought.
Without a trace of remorse,
and without a thought of return.
The above poem describes me while I'm writing. While writing I do not care for anything else. In body, I am here at my desk, but in mind I am gone. Away to other worlds, I am on an adventure dear reader, and this is the biggest one of all!