How I Love an Empty Page

How I love the essence of an empty page.
Many may think “this is intimidating”
but there is something special to this energy.
No judgments, nor looks of dismay.
Just the open invitation to unleash the river of thought into a mother’s embrace.

It is here that I am no longer crazy, nor insane.
I can put anything here and well it is all okay.
And it is true that once the door is opened and the blocks removed,
a certain quality always seems to make it way through.

This may be a poem or perhaps a syncopated rhyme,
yet profound realizations are nestled here.
Sure some polishing is needed to really make it shine.
Pieces of the whole ready to be curated into works of art for one to hold dear.

Do you know how much genius comes through one’s mind on the daily?
And the empty page is there, ready to capture it all.
Like a net strung across a running brook,
filtering all that is loose and catching all that is solid.
The blank page is an offering to go fishing in this stream of conscious thought
to find the richness of philosophical gold.

Such treasures of the mind trickle through awareness, along with the nitty gritty.
Yet one must cast their net for the jewels to be discovered.
“Unpack your stones here” the empty page speaks,
“I listen with open ears so that the beauty of you may be reflected back.”