When confronted by a blank page
the options are limitless
is this perhaps
what makes the endeavour
to fill that page
so daunting
the knowledge
that there are no limits
save for those imposed
by our own tentativeness
if we were to stretch
what is acceptable
to beyond acceptable
making our very audaciousness
acceptable
would the result be meaningful
would it hold any value
or would it be
no more
than a childish tantrum
a garish display
of self-importance
a rant lacking in substance
devoid of any depth
it is this doubt
this lack of self-belief
that thwarts our imagination
that reigns in
our free and creative spirit
our independence
why is it so
what force is at play
that makes us doubt ourselves
with such conviction.
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