The piece of paper lies on the table, waiting.

I reach for it with ink and graphite

The paper in my hands

My life, the paper.


It just lies there in front of me – blank, empty, untouched.


But, for it to remain orderly, it must stay untouched.

So,ย that which makes it orderly also renders it useless.


I sit there, waiting.

It’s waiting. For me to make my move.

Circling each other like predators

A game of cards. A chess match.


Dare I disturb it? Wake it from its slumber?

Anย untamed, mysterious, beautiful beast.

Dare I let it lie in captivity

only to have its powers spent, its potential wasting away?


The only way to unleash it, is through chaos

Order must be sacrificed.

I must reach for the ink and the graphite

to pierce the veil.


The tip touches the surface –ย scratching, marking

It feels my pen.

It must be done.

And fromย my chaos may spring forth