• Her travels take her far,
    Take her far from home.
    Here is one of her servants
    Hunched over his desk
    With eyes of fire and fervor.
    He scribbles words madly.
    She smiles, knows that
    His passion to please her
    Will drive him to a place
    Where none can reach him.
    And her gift to him will
    Waste away and help him
    Not a whit.

    She moves on to her next child.
    An older woman, unhurried,
    Her passions cool.
    The quiet clack of the keyboard,
    Molding the machine
    To do her goddess's bidding
    She'll live long and sanely.

    Oh, and there's her favorite!
    The woman-child is
    Shining with hope and promise.
    Oh, how her gift will flourish!

    But the goddess knows.
    She is a jealous thing
    And cannot allow the girl all the glory.
    She demands a price for the gift
    Of sculpting words.
    For one her fee is his mind;
    For another she takes passion's heat.
    But this young one,
    This fair star of wishes,
    Oh! her charge is steep!
    For the goddess has smiled
    Upon her, then gone on
    To look fondly, to touch the heart.
    The goddess has given her
    A soul so sensitive and wise
    But that is also her fee.
    The goddess will try,
    Push the child to the limits
    Of her feeling spirit.
    The goddess demands the highest
    Cost of this child-woman
    Because she gave the most.
    This one won't break,
    She sees.
    This one will channel her
    Deepest pains and highest joys
    Through this gift.
    The goddess of writing
    Smiles fondly and
    Sets the wheels of fate
    Into motion.