I stare at the blank page in front of me.
Thoughts flee my mind,
The moment I need them.

I stare at the blank page.
Willing it to give me some idea,
Some clue as to why I am writing.

I stare at the blank page.
I stare at it, blank, lifeless and
Incomplete without ink running down its page.

I stare at the empty, white page.
It's powerless without, me, it's writer.
Utterly and completely

I stare at the blank page.
My power flows through my pen
And onto the paper.

I have completed
A masterpiece.