Creator

What should I do with this white page?
I don't know.
What should I do with this wasteland?
I don't know.

I see in the distance life emerging from the void.
I see now the horizon budding under my eyes.

I can feel it now, bright colors piercing me deep from all sides.

Doubts and fears pulling me down.
Ego and madness pulling me up.
Melodies and rhythms clashing in my mind.

Nothing arises, everything is elusive.
Nothing stands still, nothing makes sense anymore.

The paint flows and draws this new world.
A place beyond my dreams
Words are tangling in harmony.
A tale beyond my dreams

The writer's sweet feather has finally written the story.
I can now admire my toil.
And finally savor what has long been locked up.
My work is final.
I close the old book.