Blank Slate

I'm awake to a blank slate, I don’t determine all that's written on it, Dawn doesn’t give an empty plate, I create my ambience in its heat. I try to make my slate blank, Dawn's imprints are adamant, Like a willful tyrant, It's my mechanism’s crank. I'm chauffeured by dawn, I walk on its highway, It's a mileage I'd rather not run, I'm simply a mortal clay. I come to the world as a blank slate, I'm inscribed on walking through dawn's gate, I become saddled with life’s perplexities, I push through complexities. We're created blank, We sojourn listening to guiding voices, We see, learn and make our choices, Pressing on until the last rank. February 4, 2023. Blank Slate, This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest, Edward Ibe.