Notes About The Poem
image from vecteezy.com
THE BLANK SCREEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t the ink that hesitated~
but my hand,
a trembling bridge between thought
and the white abyss.
What could be written
when silence had already
signed its name
in the margins?
The screen breathed,
patient as snowfall,
the blankness a door
waiting to be pushed open.
I pushed my palm flat against it~
felt the pulse of unwritten worlds,
the weightless buzz
of unborn stories.
And then~
the first reckless word,
black and unrepentant,
broke through the white like lightning.
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