I
a strange creature of its own
from simple thought it has grown
it's a thing of mystery
and it still confuses me

when it will arrive is unknown
sitting there bored, suddenly it's flown
through your mind, and into your pen
onto your paper, and then
this thing has a body yet again
to show off its true splendor
a thing for all to adore

i wish i could control this
powerful monster of thought
to have rights o'er what it's wrought
but sadly this sly mistress
like love, is hard to be caught

II
there are those who'd like to think
that what's been written in their ink
is an object of their own
when really it should be known
that the lovely words they write
stammt aus der Cousin der Zeit

known as a goddess, she sits above
all poets, her disciples, who make use of
the gift she gives of rhyming
using up all of our timing
filling our days with endless writing
of pieces so very exciting

a divine creature of poetry
a way to pass time in Geometry
an invisible power above our heads
a thing we dream within our beds
a thing so full of mystery
to some known simply as Musery