The page wasn’t blank from nothingness
But, like white light, white noise,
It was blank from all the disparate pursuits
that sent their separate threads across my mind,
Each tugging in a different direction:
The thread of memories and learnings
from recent days,
The thread of long exertion
sweeping needles off the roof
The thread of hopes and plans
for the not-too-distant future,
And needed tasks to make tomorrow
roll in smooth
Which all resulted
in a cancellation of the crossing waves
And the illusion of an emptiness
that really was a fullness
(and, perhaps, a need for sleep)
that kept my cogent thoughts from forming here.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 24, 2013