I like blank pages—
like quiet rooms
where I can sit and wait
where thoughts and distractions
circle above
like sparring partners—
dancing
with clarity—
making me
listen
before I can truly hear.

The space
where thoughts
stretch—
fragile
and undecided
between focus and futility.

I wait—
for thoughts to gather
and distractions to mutter—
the ink to fall
and the noise
to pause
for silence to shape itself—
to find a voice.