A blank page at me stares
Why, I wonder
To be inked?
Be filled with verses?
Be soaked in tears?
To bear the whispers of imaginary voices?
Of thoughts cajoled into words?
To carry on long standing traditions
Of bulky volumes and sloppy handprints?
Still waiting
Straight lines and slanted writing
Like a fun house mirror,
Tilting the perception of things
Turning what ifs to why nots
Putting flesh to thoughts
And life to words
Waiting
An act of patience
The silence of thinking
The sound of scribbling
On a blank page that stares at me
Waiting to be filled
Image, courtesy of @plethorae_jewelry
