Ode to a blank page
Good morning, blank page, how are you today?
I brought some coffee for us to now share.
So, we can start over, what do you say?
Oh, you don’t drink coffee, I wasn’t aware.
Honestly, I never know,
are you friend or are you foe?
Now, do me a solid, just be frank,
what do you want: to remain blank?
Be a utopia, that’s your true calling?
Shy away from words, harmful and appalling.
That, I get, I even understand, I think.
But then again, isn’t it just thoughts in ink?
I see the moral predicament
of disseminating words
through which some express but a sentiment
while for others it truly hurts
Maybe it’s your democratic responsibility
to share with amiability
the full range of thoughts and of ideas,
of hopes, concerns, and lastly, of fears
Now, my challenge is of a different sort:
How do I find what’s worth to purport?
Relax, you say,
You go on: I don’t mean to aggravate,
but, dude, you tend to procrastinate.
I don’t procrastinate!
I quickly object,
I just contemplate