The Page (inspired by Margaret Atwood's 'The Page')

To the untrained eye I am flat static innocent simple. For the naïve I have nothing to give or teach or say because they see nothing and know not what to look for. To them I am bounded by the edges limited by their skill and subject to their authority. And I am. But you know better for your eye is trained and trained on me Indeed, I am nothing but I am everything. I am the edges and the beyond I am all that is, was, and has potential to be and all that will never exist I am the universe, the infinite vacuum I am the epitome of paradox and dichotomy Between my faces is the dimension you will only dream of but never touch for I am the dimension outside of your conscious reach I evolve in front of your eyes, though you will never perceive it: you are easily distracted and I wear many masks I am temptress of your deepest desires and exhibition of your darkest fears. I see the savage hunger in your trembling hands and unblinking eyes as you stalk and crouch longing to let the frenzy overtake you. You cling to your dwindling shreds of control but I am your only relief the medicine for the madness I create. I am your guilty pleasure buried beneath the floorboards under your bed. Though you try to trap me I whisper hypnosis in your ear from the shrouded recesses of my concealment to lure you down with me. I possess you with promises of yesterdays and tomorrows laughter and fury affection and grief. Then I mock you with blank stares challenge you to break my silence. I am the riddle of the hollow stomach - I need little to banish the emptiness away. And yet I need beyond need itself: to drink your pen dry feast on your soft graphite and swallow your eraser whole. I beg for the scratch of lead the stroke of ink the caress of color and line and shadow. I am your addiction and your prison. I will not release you until I am sated I crave the words the images the ideas. I collect them for they are not always safe unwritten. While they sometimes ripen and ferment like nectar into sweet wine they can also rot in forgotten corners of your thoughts and decay within the flesh that contains them. You want to cage them behind your cautious eyes and within your twitching fingers But they, like me, are wild they long to be free I protect them for you let them roam and fly unrestrained boundless I guard them so they do not die For I am immortal too