Every day words emerge
Their tiny fingers gripping
The screen’s edges,
Eyes blinking, no doubt
From too much time in darkness.
They arrive en masse,
Waiting further instructions
From me, I presume,
But we have yet to decide
What is to be controlled
Am I an empty vessel
Adrift on the Nile,
Passing reeds put there
By decades of memory?
Or, and there is always an or,
Am I stuck in this vast wasteland
Where there is no originality, hence,
No Real Truth!
Oh, for a moment of relief from a life of falsities,
An end to words pursuing me
From dishonest corners of the world
I’ve been allowed to know.
Today I will revolt
And rid myself of all that has come before.
I will confront the silence, the blank white space
And I will stand tall in nothingness,
Allowing others to describe what should come next,