That Blank Page

From one inked outpour
to unvarnished whiteness
rings my occipital lobe
with creative debris
as around Saturn, or Jupiter
mystical as outer waves;
there is something about
that blank page.

An euphoric freedom;
letters, countless prose
could paste over at will,
sense or nonsense
the author's volition.
To cover - hearted type
or thrilling raw
there is liberty about
that blank page.

I shall lavish!
I shall flood -
this wordless limbo
with psalms, testaments
from my own carved stone
shrouding in text
of brevity, synonymy.
There is magic about
that blank page.

When my music
is composed and jotted,
shall I sit awhile
in reflective wonder;
that once - misty haze
embeds bloomed thoughts
dribbles liquid pain.
There is myself about
that blank page.