The Start

The Start A plain white piece of paper, was waiting on my desk. Waiting for me, just me. Or Waiting for you... just you? Who put it there? Why would they care? What do they want? Will it matter? The reason for the surface, clean and stolidly pure... was to begin a story, start a poem, or perhaps build a bridge to "possibility". Emotion not yet caught, quartered and or... placed in the right spot, will be needed to complete... the process. Time being the underling issue, in all our lives. We dream... and even think... and dwell on wonderful things, but never put them down. Instead, we put them off. Time is really the answer. Make it your own, bend it and work it into "compliance-y" with your life. Never let it take from you, and give it only what you feel it is due. Precious not to be wasted... to be considered a treasure, in every breath. Again the paper waits. The question remains...