I feel the keyboard.
Waiting. Waiting for it to come.
To spring into my mind.
A genius poem.
To move and shake the earth.

I have yet to think of it.
What? Where? When?
I need it now.
It's shaping and falling
Apart.
Like old clay.
I need it.

I am a writer.
I am a dreamer.
Will this dreaming writer
Ever move
Ever shake
The earth?
Is it not her dream?

Will this writing dreamer
Ever write
Anything that will make
Her dream
Satisfied?

It needs to be perfect.
Genius.
To make this fragile world
Tremble.
Why? Why do I seek
To make these things fall apart?
But I do not.
I only hope
To make them grow.

To move the earth
To tears.
To shake the earth
With joy.
To make this world
Tremble at the thought
Of fear being no more.

I have yet to think,
To write this humble poem.
Why can't I find it?
Do I not see?
Is it right
In front of me?
On the screen?
Will I move the world
After all?

To take a clear stream,
And skip a stone as smooth
As the water,
To watch the ripples
Slowly change the streams surface.
Will I ever change the world?
I am only so young.
So small.
So useless.

How could I mean a thing
To the world.
To God?
So naive
Am I.
But with God's help,
Surely
I can move,
Shake,
The world.