There's a blank sheet of paper I hung on the wall
My mother suggested to after a fall
A fall of inspiration,
Dead of true life,
Hope prancing, leaping, dashing,
In the light of unconventional thought beyond all comprehension,
Of dancing on cloud floors, declining haze of the forests,
While insouciant specks of light, similar to glowing pointillism
Can sharply puncture one's un-anticipating boredom
And infect with a communicable virus of
Celestial inspiration.
I always look back on that paper and perceive,
Beyond my tantalized body and anguishing mind
Through it's blankness, it's empty slate,
It's disgusting plainness, piercing my hope,
It's beauty in its... Lack of anything, null, nought, nothingness--
An array, plethora, profusion, superfluity
Of inconceivable courses of actions
Breathtaking inspiration.