The Blank Space

Mon, 08/05/2013 - 01:14 -- dheaden

Ideas,

Jumbled in my head, pulsating, spinning, swirling

I look at the blank document, white space

Music lightly decorating the room

Fingertips tingling, a quick impulsive burst of energy thrust onto the screen

But the ephemeral phrases they are, short-lived,

Replaced by the white space again,

Removed by a button, critical by nature, judgmental even

Delete

 

 How do I translate these ideas into words?

The music dims to a nothing and the ideas begin to swirl,

Spin twist, fly around in my head

Again the tips of my fingers tingle, eager to transform these ideas into something

Something witty, something thoughtful, articulate, meaningful

Words, dizzying themselves, marinating in my head,

Anxiously waiting for all the parts to come together

 

The ideas, the fingertips, the words, the blank space on the bright screen,

Staring at me, waiting to be filled, ready for results, for a product, for the criticism,

 

Another quick burst,

Words dance on the page, fighting for survival, but met with the erasure

Finally it clicks

Something in the universe aligns and just like that it flows

Like a catharsis, ideas entangle words draining out of my fingers

 

The page filling up, spilling over onto another

Black font saturates the white space

Words decorate the once empty canvass

 

And it is complete,

Until the process begins again

Creative juices drained for now,

Until they are replenished by ideas,

Pulsating, spinning, swirling in my head

Longing, waiting, anxious to be read on a page

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