The blank page

I've been staring at this blank page so long, my head it hurts. Such a strange thing it is. Imagination . Where does it come from? Thoughts, are they alive? Do our brains tune into a certain frequency, like an antenna? Or is it something that comes from deep within? All of these questions continuely. While I can't begin to think of anything. Honestly, I'm not sure if it makes a difference, or even makes sense. My mind has just been taken over by the magic the word contains. This spell of spelling. It's ability to hold emotion and contain it, freezing it on the blank page. Now. They say this is the age of Aquarius. Where all that is unseen will be revealed. Which honestly, does sound like the age we live in, with social media running our lives. The apocalypse, the lifting of the veil. I guess I wonder, as a poet. Will this be the end of the spoken word. Will there be a time where our minds connect, and the spoken word is history? Honestly I hope not. These though are the thoughts a schizophrenic. I'm not sure of anything these days. But my page is magically filled. If these are the last days. Remember, first there was the word they say. And let's make sure it lasts until the end. Thanks for reading and have a beautiful day