A blank page is, to me, an opportunity,
A vessel connecting a single opinion to a world of hungry minds,
A beautiful canvas of endless possibilities,
However, occasionally I blank out,
All I can see is an endless sea of white,
And I can’t quite remember why I started writing,
In the first place,
All that shimmering white begins to hurt my head,
So I start writing nonsense about kittens and tide pools and,
Blank pages,
Until my creativity is fulfilled and,
I rest my head on a soft pillow,
Flashing white morphs to soothing black,
White to black to white to black,
Life goes on and pours out,
Through a new vessel,
A blank page becomes my own imperfect paradise.