RANDOM (FEAR THE BLANK)

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WHAT MORE CAN BE SAID?

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1. FEAR THE BLANK

Do I have to put thought into what I write?

Do I care if it’s wrong or right?

Sometimes the ideas come

Other times they stay so far away so I can’t find them.

I stare at the page.

Do I have to compose a story?

Does it wait for me to fill it with tales of glory?

Or maybe with death and betrayal?

The page is still blank.

Maybe tales of true love and lost lovers?

The page is still blank.

My pen.

It forms the story.

My mind it searches for the tale it would like to tell.

But the page is still empty

My mind as dry as the dessert

My hands aching for the pen.

My eyes waiting for the beginning.

The paper waiting for the words that will hide its nakedness.

The page is still blank.

I crumple the paper.

And then regret comes

The mind is still as dry as the dessert.

My hands will never cease there aching

My eyes will be waiting for a beginning that will never come.

The paper is now covered.

Not in words

In death.

In humiliation.

None ever get its use.

I walk away.

The paper is still crumpled.

I pick it up.

It is blank

It is plain.

And then,

I see

The beauty.

The pain.

The ever expanding horizons.

The possibilities.

This paper.

Then the words flow.

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

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