The Genius Within My Head

A poem of life.

A wish upon my fingertips,
A dream within my head
A constant throbbing in my heart,
The contents within my pen.

A creation that is not complete,
And begs to see it's birth
My fingers that are trembling,
Life is theirs to birth.

A solemn breath as it does breathe
The wind sighs for it's cry,
Because it's life is silent
Until it meets others eyes.

The sight of each written word
Makes the reader cry,
And laugh and scream
So is my child's gift to man.

The character that is born,
The reader lives through him
The sin, the journey
that is my kin.

As my pen hits the page,
can you guess the end?
It's quite impossible,
the story was never mine to begin.

That's why at every ending,
I feel the character's laugh
Ending for me?
I'm eternally in your head.

But even more so,
My children never leave my head
Should they reach my pen
their story is yours to read.

Ah, what gifts my fingers perceive!
If only I knew what they had read.
What juice brings forth their creativity?
How could I not know what comes from my pen?

It is quite simple,
The genius is hidden within my head.