I have nothing to write –
Nothing to transcribe;
Countless ideas seemed to die.
And bags of words do hide.
I hate it when boredom strikes
Pen and papers –
my weapons… now, Idislike,
though I hold them so tight.
Right at this very moment,
my mind is superbly idle.
But when emptiness starts to reign,
There, I heard voice from somewhere.
A voice so audible and tough –
An influential voice I used to hear –
I tend to ignore it.
Yet, the voice continuously calls.
To give less attention is my last resort.
Unknowingly, my hand does what the voice commands.
Allowing my fragile self to be ruled,
I found my hands making this piece.
A piece I unconsciously made out of dullness.
A piece that finally gives an answer to a distracting thought.
To what thought it is …
I hold it just within myself.