Ink, Paper, Imagination

How will I start?
Slowly my pen glides across the paper
Why will I write
What will I imagine
What words will dance in my head
And slowly make a sentence
What words will slowly be designed on this piece of paper
Even I don't know

I will let my imagination run wild
On the prairie, it will take all the wind
Slowly take a breathe and slowly let out everything

Then I will know what to write
But only I will know
My pen will be my slave
My paper will be tortured
And I will be a master

I will feel power overtake me as I write
I will fill myself in my glory.

This was only but a dream
This was all just my imagination
It was me, the ink, my pen, and paper