At my laptop, I watch the cursor blink. I
sense its mockery as I search in vain for something that will stir the heart. It seems to already hold the secret prose to which hasn’t even been
created. It stares at me from that blank page, reading me better than any
friend I have ever had. It sees me writhe in pain as I wait for that light bulb moment
to satisfy me, for that flicker of wisdom to spill out on to the page with
unbridled fury. It sees my desperation to keep that internal fire from being extinguished.
I punch the letters on a laptop and a code of black and white
are set into motion. Perhaps my indiscriminate tapping will make magic, I jest to myself. A
cacophony of keyboard clicks resonates off the walls, growing louder and louder.
Push, go, propel forward so that the core is constantly churning. I feel it, like a symphony
coming to its coda after its final aria. PAUSE.
I glance down to reveal the masterpiece: a blank page of spaces.
I glance down to reveal the masterpiece: a blank page of spaces.
And yet I sat in silence, in a wildfire that was all
consuming. I find myself at ease with the profound realization that my
cursor has gifted me. I embrace the moment where there is
nothing. When I am frozen. A time of ease and no worries. A time without
retort or argument. A time without suspicion or judgment. A period of not
knowing where I am headed, where that path might take me, or even if it that
path was “right” or "wrong." It felt right, “right now.”
There is something beautiful about a white
canvas with a story yet to be told.
DNKG
© Mind Games: 2014
DNKG
© Mind Games: 2014