words clamor inside

none worth the writing

i’m paralyzed, praying

for something inciting

an idea to save me

from blank white expanse

i’m so unproductive

stuck in a trance

a costly investment

that hasn’t matured

sitting and stalling

not writing a word

where was once worth

gripping pencils with glee

dreaming worlds of paper

has now become me

so, where has it gone?

the rushing, the splashing

a ride on the wave

of creative passion?

though i float placid now

paper surface of white

i take a deep breath

and continue to write.