My anguished pen called out to me
The blank page was mocking me
While my mind was littered with thoughts of the mundane
Not a single spark of creativity
My thoughts languished in captivity
My spirit-scribe coaxed my mind to act, in vain

The menacing blank page then glared,
and with a condescending smirk, he dared
A challenge to admit my failings, fair
To memorialize empty thoughts
Without a single nod to cost
I picked up my one trusted ally
And studied...holding it in the air

The pen seemed heavier than before, a formidable instrument, and more
filled with ink and possibilities to confront the page
The pen's assuredness and bravado
Both inspiring to follow
Were the kindling for my thoughts, reigniting a flame

So I steeled myself for the challenge
Took the pen in hand, felt balanced
And turned my focus to the empty page at hand
The moment pen touched the paper
It was clear its purpose, greater
The ink poured my soul's contents into words without command

The pen bled a thousand lifetimes
And, my soul's contents in true rhyme
As I raced to match stride with my pen's confessions
With not a single restful break
My heart lain open in its wake
My pen's endless ink and verse, bound for the heavens

An eternity had passed by
when we stopped to rest, my scribe, and I
Catching my breath, I saw the outcome of our session
Every syllable and phrase
Came to life down on that page
My heart and soul now resurrected - cleansed by our confessions.

© Shari64A