Some times thoughts overwhelm me

And carry me beyond known heights.

There I am left with a pen and paper

To record all the wondeful sights.

The mind is a vacuum for words.

They get swept up so easily,

And then transferred to paper,

Forming the nucleus for a novel.

Beyond the scope of new horizones,

I sit and ponder, why am I here?

Others have come before me

And have left their marks to be seen.