The Unfinished Poet - Revised again!

My essence. My Joy/Tragedy and perhaps the Words..upon my death truly be unchangeable.

What Muse doth guide my rapid strokes,
to seize upon my mind?
For each and every word I write,
another lies behind

Every word, each phrase is pounded out
upon the sparkling screen
My fingers of their own accord
so lightly trace my dream

As I then read the end result
in consternation peer
Were these the very words I wrote
why’s not their meaning clear

Now with changes carefully made
and great frustration fraught
I reach perhaps a point in time
"the essence I have caught"

And yet upon another hour,
another week or year
Upon these very words I gaze,
again they are unclear

Is it these words, are they at fault
or I who cannot see
For they are surely just the same
so maybe it is me

A Tear for me, if you please
Some patience and your time
For tempted am I now you see
To rewrite this very line!