The Poet's Masterpiece

The ardent poet sits at his desk,
Enveloped in wholly solitude.
But he is inured to these long, lonely nights,
And assumes a jolly countenance.
The silence renders his muse to life.
Pulleys and gears in his mind churn.
His imagination lets loose a perpetual stream of knowledge.
His pen is his paddle.
His paper is his palette.
Words, images, and ideas flood together.
Until he has in his possession,
The essence of a
Masterpiece.