You hear it. You feel it. The paper. The blank sheet rests atop your oaken desk, unmarked, unmoved. A pencil, freshly sharpened, sits next to it. The paper. You hear it laughing at you. Laughing at your troubles. Laughing at your failure. Laughing at your misery. Laughing. The paper. You feel it tingling under you finger tips. So very near, yet the ideas, so very far. You can feel them, these ideas, you reach for them, but they drift away, like a leaf caught in a stream. You look down at it, so blank and untouched. The paper. It stares, chuckling at you. Chuckling. Misery, despair, desperation set in. You worry, you suffer, you moan, you think, you fail. It rests, it laughs. The paper.
Spoiler:
I am from sudden twists and sharp turns
From gentle slopes to sheer drops
Right-side-up to up-side-down
Spontaneous, unexpected
Like a train rolling free.
I am from a flickering candle
Dancing in the breeze until extinguished
Letting darkness be complete
In the room where I lay
But from the glowing embers within me
I relight
And drive the darkness away.
I am from timeless books
That rest on the oaken shelves
Torn at the edges
From so many terrific leaps
Into my imagination.
I am from hard choices
That creep into our everyday
From closing one door
To open another
From climbing aboard
To waiting for the next.
I am from courage
Courage to stand up
And do what's right
Courage to face an audience
And say what remains unsaid
True and honorable courage.
I am from sunshine-yellow pencils
Scratching at paper
Hurrying to catch the words
That drift through the mind
Like a leaf in a stream
Give every man thy ear
But few thy voice
Take each man's censure
But reserve thy judgment
Simply the thing I am
Shall make me live
For I am from life.
Join the Suro revolution |Win the war of Majasuroshia| Fight the Oppressors