What would it be like to be inspired
Not by mere memory or idle dream
But by the strange visions one acquired
Courtesy of the celestial team?
Consider the expression of the Saint:
He is incredulous, almost dismayed
The stunning image that his scribblings paint
Is like music, but he is being played
The words flow from one mind to another
The second marks them out upon the page;
But of the ideas, one is the mother
The other might their meaning rarely gauge
Seldom do angels write books, anymore
Though many pretend they craft works galore
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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