Out of My Mind - a Rhyming Spot on Creative Thought

Why must the poet ever create?
Where do the words originate?

The verses flow from within my brain.
I'll put them on paper or down the drain,
Eliminate all lines mundane,
And pour my dreams into ink stain.

A poet's mind is never still;
It operates its own free will,
Composing line and verse until
It just approaches overkill.

Though poetry is of the mind,
The heart and soul, not far behind,
Contribute musings thus designed
To demonstrate the three entwined.

For we are triune: mind, heart, soul;
Without these three, we can't be whole.
In God's own image, to extol,
We carve our words, out of control.