Sparks on Blank Pages with Salvin
Yesterday, I sat on the floor
A pen in my hand, and pages blank
My hair disheveled, perhaps a mimic of me
Where do I start?
A pen of such miniscule size, yet my hands are trembling
Pages that only have meaning once i command it so,
yet my hands are trembling
Just be patient
Patient until this clock strikes twelve
patient, until magic proves itself again
Patient, until i can start over
Today I marvelled of the person I’ve become,
Muse in my head, and a perfect job
My hair is neatly combed, with a side parting for style
Ah, where do I start?
Breathe in, breathe out and smile a bit for endorphins,
I shut my eyes to hear the birds sing,
Then feel the sun’s kiss against my skin—
And then my muse begins to glide.
Be cool, calm, and collected,
Never say “no” to growth.
Practice does not make perfect.
So I’ll ask for feedback and filter out what I need to grow.
I’m set to make sparks on blank pages.
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