The Blank

When I was short in years, I did not wait to make eager mark on the siren slate. One pause to consider the beauty there, then a dive into clouds of starlit air. Always I knew of the power, so strange. The scope of a sheet hath infinite range. And then I knew less ... perhaps I dreamed more? The chase grows more earnest; now I keep score. Strange revelation for one to conceive, as they stare at white paper; no reprieve, no safe haven from time's blind, frozen stare. We have more to do, and more to beware. I pause with my pencil in hand - I see - many dreams to chase ... they paralyze me. 15 February 2020