The blank page is beautiful

until I start writing words.

When that happens

nothing else matters.

Writing can be ugly

and just as beautiful.

Many

are content with the blank page

without blemish

without profanity

or emotion.

It speaks, to the invisible fears

inside all of us.

Writing is a way

to turn

the invisible

into something

ugly

or beautiful—

to unveil the mystery.

NOTHING

is peaceful

and

it gives us nowhere to go.

Writing

has no end.

I have been going to work for a long time

and I hear the voices that I try to write down.

They speak of vacations

of promotions and prestige

of gossip and intrigue

They talk of associations, with the most powerful

They clamor for attention

in a life that’s fleeting.

In my current position

I have been blessed

to figure-out who I am.

I was always there

but one day, I gave myself permission

to write it down.

People read it

and hate it.

Few

understand it.

It’s convenient to package paper

in stacks of 500.

They all look the same

because nobody has written

on it.

Some

try to erase their messy words for approval

or edit their profanity.

Many

care what people will say.

They try to guard their reputations.

Soon

they are socially acceptable

but they are not accepted, for who they are

but for

their BLANK page

that people look at

and toss away.

Society accepts

the NOTHING

that expects nothing.

The more each person is accepted

the blanker they become

like

a page

with nothing on it.