The Blank Page
In a smoke-filled empty room barely lit
Reclined and unexpectedly keen
Our song saturating the senses with its melodious musings
I lay here pondering the blank page before me
Taut and anxious for my touch
It stares back at me with bated breath
So fragile and irresistible... desirous for depth
And the importation of my meaning
My hands amply spread out
Brushing across this barren landscape
Preparing the blank page for what is to come
My pen teasingly and vigorously growing closer
To that which GOD has provided for divine conception
Creation is a process I say as I put pen to page
In my mind’s eye I watch as our dreams through sighs escape us
Each exhalation a day drifting by on the sea of time
In which rippled wake we see the very drama of our lives
Your attention rapt as my fingertips lovingly paint for you
A scene more powerful than any picture
Each stroke telling a tale so potent that it transcends
The very page upon which it is written
Providing for us something profoundly tangible
From the very soul that adores you
Imparting something lasting as evidence that this love exists
And perhaps leaving a trail back to this feeling
Long after our final sighs
Tonight we will not falter nor be overwhelmed
By thoughts of our own mortality
Or the fear that in the end
It is all for naught
And there really wasn’t anyone listening
No tonight my muse let the heavens echo
From the scribbling of a man
Who once pondered the blank page
And was able to change it
Like those famous lovers
Too soon forgotten
Trying like in all of my poems to make them allegorical and to tell multiple stories at once simultaneously
1 story is the act of creation with the written word
2 story I imagined a couple trying once again to have a child
3 story I imagined GOD creating from the void
Liked or faved by...
