Muse Of Poets Poem by Starseed Child

I sit here in the silence waiting for the pencil to make to make words, to fill the page with a beautiful story, that every person that reads it will see a difference, my stories to not need names...they crave for every person to perceive them differently breathing them to life for every word engraved on this one piece of paper is but a bud yet to open and show its self to the world, can you see yourself? your reflection in these words, on this paper...our lives are like poems many diverse ones, the good and the bad, it only takes you a moment to pick up a pencil and write out your annoyance your happiness even the anger within, these imperfections want to come out...paint the world with them, we don't take a stand with the notes written on a page or the brush strokes on a canvas, we weave webs of words on a single page, a pure white piece of paper filled with words each written by different hands but all strivings to realize these emotions to take the next step forward an unknowingly to teach the next reader our joy with our sorrow and help form a empty path with words simply left on a piece o paper...our lives will end but our pages will continue to scatter through the ages of history and lives on through the next generation of poets...only to those who understand that they are not just words printed on paper they are each like wings allowing us to all connect together no matter how far we are passing on the muse that was bestowed on us in times of need and giving it away attached to the wings we release to the world to pass along the muse of poets