The blank page—

It intimidates, it cowers.

Both giver and recipient

Waiting, watching,

To discover

Who holds which role.

The cursor blinks,

Like a thought

Not quite pinned down,

Like a memory

Fleeting

And remembered again.

The keyboard caves under pressure,

Letters slowly appear

Sprung into being full-bodied

Like flowers who hide their

Genetic codes below the ground.

A river of words flow

Onto the page

Orderly, like ants crawling over concrete

Telepathically connected to fulfil

An unseen goal.

Sentences soar over the

Blank expanse of white

Like seagulls flying above

Endless stretches of blue.

An island appears—

The final period placed—

And man pauses to look at the scenery

To see if the journey had been worth it,

The once again stationary cursor

Blinking its single eye

As if waking from a dream

It can’t fully recall.

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_{Rather than be more productive in writing my end-of-term papers, my creativity would rather ponder on the state of my progress itself.}

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