A being was born,
Cast in emotion,
The iron that molded her.
Embedded with jewels,
Feelings of every fragment.
But this grandeur didn't suffice.
She pleaded with the muses,
Begging for a way to share her talent.
And so they armed her,
An arsenal of words at her command,
Formed to relay thoughts and feelings.
She spoke until her mouth ran dry,
And her inspiration low.
Once more she came before her muses,
Hoping for a medium other than her voice.
For words do not last and can be easily forgotten.
Again they complied.
This time she was gifted paper and pens as to record her portrayals.
And so she went to work,
Writing and creating as the inspiration struck.
And the muses rejoiced,
For more began to take up pens and spread her gift beside her.