Ghost Writer Poem by Laurence Overmire

The pen drives itself upon the paper
I, watching as the tale unfolds
Wonder from whence this wisdom comes
Of things not seen or heard
Places never visited, faces never known.

Am I but a vessel of some far greater power
A pawn in a game of cosmic chess?
Or are these visions merely undiscovered
Parts of myself, aspects
Unconnected to the daily toil of waking sleepfulness?

The mystery will not be unriddled
Like a siren's song, she taunts and tempts
And bids me follow where'er she leads
And I obey
Willing captive of her inimitable beauty.

~ Laurence Overmire