Much to say about nothing

one million colours the human eye can see

each year, hundreds of new species found

the driest place on earth, next to the largest body of water

the world is infinite in the infinite universe

yet i remain unstirred, unshaken

i pray to no god

still, i beg zeus to jolt my right hand awake

so that i might write a revolution

each ink stroke, a breath

here i am, a corpse turning cold

does a writer sit in her thinking chair wondering

what will i be inspired by today?

or does she simply wake up with ideas

that blossomed in her dreams

encased in days that look, smell, sound, feel the same

today, i am who i will be tomorrow

the blank canvas threatens to swallow me whole

i am the bottomless, shapeless white

alas, self-pity isn’t in the recipe for inspiration

inspiration

as easy to find as flowers blooming atop a snowcapped mountain

or a whisper travelling in the blackness of space

does it need to be found, like a treasure buried?

i dig and dig

in place of gold there is

a grave filled with frivolous words and rejection letters

the human eye can see one million different colours

so i try to see the beauty in nothing

for what is nothing but the seed for all things