blank slate

what is this

Writing at my desk, the blinds closed, No light in my room, or my mind trying to find inspiration from a blank slate.

How do you paint a canvas without a brush? Or without picking the paint?

I’m just waiting for something to happen to me, Something to inspire me, So I can say that I’ve lived my life, That I’ve experienced everything I can, that I’ve made this trip to the surface Worth whatever divine effort Put me here. Experience something that will help me make something of purpose.

Can life just pretty,

pretty,

pretty,

p r e t t y,

p r e t t y

p

r

e

t

t

y

PLEASE!

. . .

please,

Give me something to breathe about, something to dream about, something to write about to create.

Why didn’t you give me the genius to write? Who do you choose when deciding who is born to change the lives of others And who has to write thousands of words over and over to change one.

So I write one more; One more story, One more word, until I find genius.

What an unachievable, insatiable place to aspire to.

M. Grace