I see the keys, black and white.
I see my fingers as they write.
I see the ink on a page.
I see my fingers as they age.
I see the books I read at night.
I see them crowded in spaces tight.
I see the room where I create.
I see the clock that says it's late.
I feel the thoughts form in my mind.
I close my eyes and write as if blind.
I can never tell what the words will be
because the writing is not from me.
The words have been channeled to me somehow.
I am kind of used to all of this now.
When it started it was very strange.
I began to think myself deranged.
I've come to accept this gift that came.
But for 4 and1/2 years I've not been the same.
In the beginning I used to question it all,
thinking "why me? " and then came the call.
"Just do it and you'll never look back."
When the poem's done I wonder at this act.
If I were to tell you who's channeling to me
Most of you would think that I'm quite crazy.
But I'm not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem