Blank page syndrome
feels like full page longing
to be done with some work project
that will not slowly grow worthy
of my time
and certainly no captivated reader.
I feel victimized,
tortured, actually,
by blank page syndrome
Where I want to feel some opening
and rewarding opportunity
and not dull risk
of further unnoticed failure
to richly
and wisely communicate
warm and wild communion.
My blank pages
demand content
spilled across blue horizontal lines
with a red left side vertical
demanding
Demarking where orderly thought correctly begins
to unfold top left
unfurling cause effectively
sequentially
toward right bottom
Yet Left dominance
overpowers Right feelings prominent
circling and recycling
whirling and spinning
spiraling out of win/win control
re-membering risks
of nontransparent failure
falling brawly short
of both peaceful Truth
and vulnerable Beauty.
Yet a bleakly black blank canvas
with no red
or blue bicameral communion rules
or tools
feels most frightening
intimidating of all
unbalanced
anthro-privileged
vaporous calls
My
“I can’t draw,
or sketch,
or paint,
or write,
or sing,
or dance,
or speak out woke”
Can’t preach
or teach inside voices
ignoring outside echoing choices
to evoke
childish dreams,
daydream schemes
to become Earth’s greatest love
of blank paged warm regard
for how we flew
and walked
and swam
and grew to Here embodied
meets Now compassioned mind
Greatest
deepest
widest
trusted EarthBeauty
dipolar co-arising
all scared yet sacred Time’s unfolding
Win/Win regenerative
peaks and valley sand
defining ecstatic
aesthetic lines
refining intimate circling graced spaces
etched throughout
neuro-systemic elegant
multigenerational potential
Not not synergetic journeys
deeply and widely
back and forth
out and inside
polyculturing communion
While staring at this straight lined
and otherwise white privileged
square-cut manufactured page
Holding my green health hope
and content contented circling pen
praying for worthy inspiration.
gdill52 