random ramblings

The page sits there blank in stark contrast to the confusion in my mind. Thoughts, ideas, words running around, tumbling, jumbling, not making sense. Something needs to be written, something begs to be written, but somehow I’ve lost the ability to organize these thoughts into any fashion of coherence. So, with pen in hand and page before me, I begin to write and I hope that my muse continues to inspire me and guide my pen as it pours these words onto the page. But the words make no sense, there’s no connection between them; the confusion in my mind has transferred itself on the page, marring the beautiful blankness that was there before. And now that the purity is forever robbed nothing remains but to fill the page with such ramblings in the hope that a word or two, or a thought or two, can give this page value again. As it sits there, blank, a world of possibilities lies open before it. It has inestimable value, but value only in anticipation of what can be done with it. But as soon as the first marks of ink destroy the white purity. mar the innate beauty of a blank page, it’s only hope for value and of being retained lies in what is written thereon. If there be some words of wisdom, counsel, advice, some elegant explanation of some profound principle or simply the warm greeting of a loved one, then it is enough, this page has fulfilled its purpose and can be esteemed as of worth. But if , however, there appears on the page merely the random rambling of someone too bored, confused, or desperate, then the page has been misused and, in effect, wasted. The worth of an object lies in the value placed upon it by others. If the words that are written are esteemed as being worth reading then the page is kept and has value; if not then the page is discarded and never thought about again. It was a simple thing, yet it was everything to that sheet of paper. It all began with a possibility and a hope of value, yet as soon as the pen touched paper destiny was being written.

Writing is therapeutic, they say. One loses oneself in the act and is surprised at the result.

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