Stream of Consciousness

 

The blank pages sit before me,

Mocking me with their whiteness.

So I take my sharp pen

And litter the tabula rasa

With words that, by themselves,

Mean nothing.

They are just letters, just lines

And curves put together

In an attempt to mean something.

But when they come together

(In a clash

A clamor

A crash)

They inflame the paper they touch

They spark images, thoughts, and feelings

They ignite an idea that

Was previously decaying

Falling apart

Dying because it was never written down

And shared with others,

For them to agree with

Or argue over.

A writer’s dream:

To take the chance

And write a stream of consciousness

For all to see

Filling a simple, blank page

With inspiration.

 

Reviews

[Andromeda]

i know the feeling