I can feel it deepest in the night
every single time I dare to write
spill my purest ink upon the page
recite my lines on this empty stage
For this is truly the realest me
this invisible poet that you see
the one who shares these lines
but never these hidden designs
A mere traveler around the world
still waiting as life is then unfurled
as its mysteries come to fruition
as I again pay its dear tuition
In the hope to one day find
what is in front is now behind
that the future is now my past
forging a legacy that will then last
Since soon there will come a time
when I have run plumb out of rhyme
when all of my ink will have dried
after this troubadour has died
