Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Better as a poem, I think




I sit here staring
at the blankness
of the page
wondering
if I could ever do it. 
would inspiration
ever come? 

It actually had come
many times
in a flash of a title
or a snippet of a line 
but nothing more
no words
no sentences
no pages
had ever come. 
was that because
I had nothing
meaningful to say
or because I had
no idea
how to say it?

I believed that I had
something to say
but knowing what words
to set down
on that blank page
ah, there was the rub
how to put my thoughts
together
in such a way
that they would form
meaningful thoughts
to someone
besides myself. 
what it came down to
was this – if
I did finally write
how would I know
whether anyone
would read it? 
but finally, I knew
that it mattered not
if anyone read it –
just that I wrote it.

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