The empty page

I want to write and fill this empty page
But my thoughts can’t seem to gather,
They don't behave even when asked nicely
“Wouldn’t you be archived rather?”

An idea, a memory, a meaningful story
Can’t seemed to be caught with or without care,
Solely to be protected from the effects
Of the soul’s restoration and novelty’s flair.

I thought I had control over this mess
I was sure I knew which road to take,
But somewhere along the lines
I started believing it was all a mistake.

As I fill this page with a sense of void
I begin to comprehend,
It’s not about the thoughts that I can contain
It’s not about the beginning or the end.

If I keep writing without a plan
The text would lack rhythm, would lack flow,
If I keep going the way I am
I would never be able to let go...

Let go of the thoughts that contain me
Not the ones I hope to suppress,
I must let them fill the sky
Holding on is not worth the stress.

Some time has passed since I’ve been
Eyeing the big picture and doing my part,
Creating distances in places that were
Once ruled only by the innocence of the heart.

It’s tough having to keep the sails up during the storms
And maintain my forward stance,
But it’s even harder to keep reminding myself of why,
Why I chose to do this dance.

For a moment I even stop.
Stop and evaluate the steps I’m making,
I feel as if my poses might be the source
Of the sound I recognize… as a heart breaking.

I tip-toe to your side to check up on you
But find nothing abnormal in my inspection,
When given a chance to redeem, you act like your typical self
And unknowingly encourage me to resume my resurrection.

So it seems I’m determined now
To no longer reflect on stale thoughts from the past,
To let go and make room for my simple self
And to see this page filled at last.