Unwritten

I have sharpened a pencil

Within an inch of its life,

And I can no longer pretend

That the blank pages

Sprawled in front of me

Are a metaphor for

Some great new thing;

I am beginning to envy

The world outside

My solitary window

Reveling in its freedom,

And I wonder if tonight

I am destined to be

This gallingly unwritten?

©Aaysid

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

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