The Creator

This poem is about "The Creator".
It is not religious in nature.

I am the creator, the maker of these lands

I know every port of call, and every grain of sand

With a flick of my pen new worlds spring to life

Many lush and wondrous, others filled with strife

 

All the inhabitants have an engaging story to be told

Some search for love, while others seek out gold

Even the foulest villain has a gripping tale to tell

A product of his environment, he learnt to rebel

 

I am responsible for all the images you see

Under the vivid skies, and the turbulent sea

As the writer, they have all derived from me

Strategically placed, where I desire them to be

 

Till my characters take on a will of their own

And soon my initial influence is overthrown

At night they continue to whisper in my head

They see no good reason, to run off to bed

 

So there I sit in the middle of the night

Pencil in hand, making use of the light

Writing down their adventures past

So that I can get some sleep at last

The End

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