The white screen: blank, empty,
pregnant with Nothingness,
ready to be filled.
The monkey-mind of racing thoughts,
each quickly considered,
and just as quickly discarded,
in the search for “perfection”;
The exact antithesis
of the stillness, calm
of just “being”.
Silently cursing the cursor,
which blinks at me,
a steady taunting,
I search for the Zen in writer’s block…
knowing in my heart
that the harder I seek,
the less likely I am to find it.
Perhaps I can find my center,
with the framed, pre-programmed
tool of aligned justification,
listening to the spirit breathe
and following that breath,
to a deeper meaning on the page?
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2015