Are these my words, or the thoughts and ideas of an exterior influence? Does knowledge flow forth from the mind of the creator or from the spirit of the visitor? Be it daemon or genius, the visitor finds the artist in the quiet hours when sleep takes consciousness to the world of dreams. Soon he will awaken, his head filled with imaginings, compelled to transcribe the thoughts rushing through his brain before the light of wakefulness burns it all away to ethereal nothingness. Stay awhile, please, strange visitor. Sit with me and let us talk of what is to be and what never was. Are you a part of me or something other than me and how long must I wait until you return?