I look down at the blank paper and wish the pen to write. In frustration I lay my head in my hands. Slowly I fade into sleep only to be awakened by the sound of music. I turn around to see a man playing a lyre as another paces back and forth. Puzzled for a moment ,I look around the room. From one corner I see people who are vaguely familiar. My eyes return to the person Playing the music and suddenly I know it is David, while pacing next to him I see Aerostotil. Over at a simple wooden, table I recognize Shakespear chatting with a brash fellow I know to be Mark Twain. In confusion I stumble into Lord Byron, who is reading work just written by Dickenson, she sits in a chair idly brooding waiting for him to declare what he thinks. In a Mad Dash of confusion I quickly turn around, and I fall as the house of Usher's and come crashing to the ground. A well-dressed gentleman offers me a hand and picks me up, he has a dark and piercing stare. I ask where I am, and Mister Poe quietly declares, you're in the poet's room. You have found your way here, I asked him how and he says I'm truly not sure. He says this is a place where people come to share ideas and to watch one another's work. I say that I was frustrated and could not will my pen to write. He laughs rather smugly with an impish Delight. He said that is not the purpose of writing, he says you cannot will it to flow. He says look around you and tell me what you see. I said I see great writers, but he said they can be just as frustrated as you. He said Each one can tell a story, and he said that something that you must learn to do. So the room again to fade into a fuzzy Hayes. I woke up from my slumber and look down at the blank and dismal page. It suddenly dawned on me, but I must look around. For if I want to tell a story, then it must be found. So I got it for my table and took a walk outside. There I took a really good look at the World Grand and wide. I didn't set off on a journey with the lessons that I've learned. A story can't be forced, it must be earned. So when I return to my desk, with paper and Pen in Hand. I shall no longer be so frustrated for now I understand.