Untitled

I behold the blank page eying me
From its right angled corners
Tunnelling my vision into its
Bare expressionlessness

Perfect lines are on its surface
Begging to be intruded by
My written words.

All I know of life and its intricacies
Are erased from my intellect
As I try to evoke a mental picture
Of some captivating starting point

I look at the page from left to right
Then right to left.

The western way is more regimented
More ordered more disciplined
The eastern, more subtle more creative and beautiful

I abandon my roots and choose a style
Organic, hieroglyphic mandarin form
Setting me free to fly
Like a dignified Chinese pheasant
On the surface of a Ming dynasty vase

I discipline myself in my craft
My mind becomes still and almost meditational
Like a Buddhist monk, his quest, mastery
Of his own self realisation

Then like a phoenix from the ashes
A thought rises, and I realise
Because of this age of modernity
If I leave the page blank,
I will be considered extremely wise
And gifted by the majority

So I just sign it and title it untitled
As this lends
To Its enigmatic curiosity