Who is the master

Who is the master

When the need

Is always there,

Pushing at boundaries

Trying to formulate

An escape plan?

Words and verses

Come together

Over dinner.

Convivial conversation

Before breakfast

Driving past

A group of men

Talking in a bandstand,

Masked by shadow,

Plotting a coup,

Planning a bank raid,

Waiting for

The second coming.

They all vie to be heard,

Over the sound of the radio,

Until the news breaks

And another story

Begins.

Is it the writer

Or the word.

Is it a combination

Of both,

The rule maker,

And the negotiator

The two become one

And beget

A worker of words

Determine the course

Of things,

Pull the strings,

Even as music plays,

Landscapes are painted

Awash with promise,

As the background

Becomes a lyrical

Foreground.

And with a simple twist

That is perhaps

Little more than fate,

A spark becomes a flame

That burns

Until you no longer sing

The same old song.

And the drift to sleep

Is broken.

New words collide,

A whole universe

Is created,

The fear of

Losing the muse

Ensures

You are fully woken,

And pleased you

Had the prescience

To put the leather

Bound journal

By the bed.

What a flash of inspiration

That really was.

And rather than lay down

Your weary head,

It is time for

The deluded slave,

Enlightened soul,

Or hack

To get off his back

And burn the midnight oil

Instead.