As fast as the poems pour in
He pours them right back out again
Spilling their contents all over the page
It's either madness or wisdom that controls this Sage

While some may spill out on the floor
It's carefully swept into piles later for
When this young poets heart starts to bleed
He's never quite sure what rhymes he will need

So as fast as the poems pour in
He takes what they say and pours them back out again
In the spilling of contents all over the page
This time knowing though it's madness that controls the pen of this Sage