Blank Book

I am staring at this blank page, I see my reflection in the emptyness, but surely I am more than this? There must be more to ME than this?! I anxiously turn to the next page, hoping to find it full of complex diagrams, names, places & familiar words I can take comfort in. Its the same blank page, I turn the page again. More Blank pages. I look at the front of the book, no name is written. I am standing in a library full of these unnamed books. Thousands upon thousands of blank pages.

There is no ink to write my name, no pen to scrawl my pain, the mere meniton of a writing implemtent draws puzzled expressions on the silent librarian's blank face. I yearn to read like a penguin yearns for flight, like a blind man yearns for sight, like a moth yearns for light. Letters flash through my mind like shooting stars blessing the night. I make a wish. I wish for a word. A sentence, maybe even a paragraph..Please don't laugh, surely its not too much to ask. Just one word....what am I supposed to do with a bloody blank book!? Pleeeaassseeee

I hit the streets my face as white as cum stained sheets, my hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach & plead with passers by to speak, just one word I think just one word, I bleed silence all over the street, all over my feet, I stagger into alleyways leaving trails of bloody silence, maybe words will follow me, maybe words will follow me, I scavange through bins desperatley looking for something to read, something to heed, something to eat, without words I'm not me, I am a witch being burnt at the stake, theres too much heat, flames engulf my being, fire distorts my seeing, I was once a tree & now I'm a smouldering dictionary, all pages burned, the existence of words becomes fictionary... a butterfly flutters past my ear on a calming breeze, a calming breeze, a calming breeze, I glow brightly, its wings whisper to me......

Thick fog hibernates in the sky, butterfly wings whisper songs of spring although its still mid winter, bow to the trickster, Truth beckons, Clarity of Heart, clouds part, an open sky as deep as, my love, I open my eyes & God smiles, sunrays penetrate as my mind vibrates, brain chemistry changes, transmutates, that familiar question reformulates. What do I do with a blank book?

(((GeNTLe ReSonAnCe)))The answer is in my sacred breath, the words are written within me & as I breath sentences are forming on my INBREATH, I read with INSIGHT, using the blank page as my guide for the books of wisdom writen on the INSIDE. All knowledge & wisdom is written in my breath & all I need to remind me of this is BLANK BOOKS. If I can't find it in the written word then it must be unwritten, long since forgotten, waiting to be discovered & expressed, to impress those who need to be pressed. Society fills our books with too many words, fills our heads with absurd verbs, words are the deepest demons of mankind, the deepest enquiries are NOT of the mind & If you want to know your own TRUTH then go LOOK at a BLANK BOOK...

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