Don’t ask for answers.
I am no bearer of what the world holds true.
I have no words to gift,
No wisdom to impart.
Cannot you see how deep the knife slashed through
And bled my eyes of sight?
Mine is the lack of purpose,
Mine this darkness.
If all I have is silence,
Ideas running rampart,
Torn ground beneath the feebleness of thought,
What will you ask of me?
This play of shadows will torment no more…
Let go.
I shall not linger in your path distraught,
The scarlet skies of those who hold all truths will fall
And at the brink of the abyss –
Under the spell of an extinguished sun –
All certainty will find oblivion’s kiss.
*
vic briggs 
Somewhere deeply imbedded in this verse there is a strong sense of passion I’m feeling.
I have been feeling so empty in front of the blank page that in the end decided to search no more and write exactly what I felt in the moment. Perhaps inadvertently that feeling broke through…
I haven’t ever experienced writers block in my life so I couldn’t give you any advice. I’ve heard the blank page is a writers worst enemy.
It feels a little like banging one’s head against a brick wall, and hopefully you haven’t experienced that one either, but I’m sure you get the idea 😉
Hope your weekend got to a nice start.
I definitely do. I’ve heard Henry Miller experienced something similar during his days. So far so good for me, but it could always be creeping around the corner. Writers block isn’t something to take lightly. My weekend has been fine so far, I can’t complain. I hope everything is going well on your end.
It is, thank you and you are quite right: one never knows.
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Beautifully written in that moment of deprivation.
Thank you, Susan. It felt as if the void had spoken through me.