Conduit

A man once decided a story poem he will write if he could
He said to himself, I do not know if it will be any good

But decision made he made his choice there was no going back
So sit he did and think he began with the writing tools he had

On and on the words they came they flowed through him with ease
The form he did not write in his mind, the story did as it pleased

He said, I’m just a conduit, the story writes itself
My pen I touch to paper and give it a bit of help

A nudge just here or there it seems that that is all it takes
In those moments writing comes so easy without breaks

It's a joy he said to himself in the story he could have wrote
A story about himself as if he were not the bloke

But the story formed did not end there, he wondered where to next
This, he mused, my story poem I’d write with every breath

But if I take control of the story and make it go where I want
The story cannot show me what it wants to show a lot

And so, he added, I’ll let the story write itself through me and say
That I am just a conduit empowered in this way

He thought I could wrap this story up fantastic as it were
As if I were the man through which this story was given birth

I’ve stretched my mind as far as I could take it and in the end
The man he realized I’ll need to write this, off he went

He got his writing tools together brought them all around
Picked his pen up dabbed the ink and said I’ll start right now

A man once decided a story poem he’ll write if he could
He said to himself I do not know if it will be any good