Blank Page Syndrome

Blank page syndrome feels like full page longing to be done with some work project that will not slowly grow worthy of my time and certainly no captivated reader. I feel victimized, tortured, actually, by blank page syndrome Where I want to feel some opening and rewarding opportunity and not dull risk of further unnoticed failure to richly and wisely communicate warm and wild communion. My blank pages demand content spilled across blue horizontal lines with a red left side vertical boundary demarcation Remarking where orderly thought correctly begins to unfold top left unfurling cause effectively sequentially toward right bottom Yet Left dominance overpowers Right feelings prominent circling and recycling whirling and spinning spiraling out of win/win control re-membering risks of nontransparent failure falling brawly short of both peaceful Truth and vulnerable Beauty. Yet a bleakly black blank canvas with no red or blue bicameral communion rules or tools feels most frightening intimidating of all unbalanced anthro-privileged vaporous calls My "I can't draw, or sketch, or paint, or write, or sing, or dance, or speak out woke" Can't preach or teach inside voices ignoring outside echoing choices to evoke childish dreams, daydream schemes to become Earth's greatest love of blank paged warm regard for how we flew and walked and swam and grew to Here embodied meets Now compassioned mind Greatest deepest widest trusted EarthBeauty dipolar co-arising all scared yet sacred Time's unfolding Win/Win regenerative peaks and valley sand defining ecstatic aesthetic lines refining intimate circling spaces etched throughout neuro-systemic elegant regenerational potential for healthier lands Not not synergetic journeys deeply and widely back and forth out and inside polyculturing communion While staring at this straight lined and otherwise white privileged square-cut manufactured page Holding my green health hope and content contented circling pen praying for worthy expiring inspiration.