What is it?
That something..
It’s holding you back
Searching..
For the perfect time
To unpack
The first few chapters
Unfold
On their own
Etched
So deeply
In pieces of stone
Priceless..
A treasure
Collected in jars
Painted
The next part
With shimmering stars
Tiny explosions
Inside
Every letter
Composing
A brilliant
Collection of words…
Planning ahead
You picked up
A pencil
Afraid
What’s to come
Might not have the potential
Erasing
Replaced
The passion for writing
Doubting
Everything
You had been reciting
After some time
You gathered
Your thoughts
Finding
A way
To get your point across
Written on paper
With
Beautiful ink
Line after line
Not having
To think
Pouring out words
The pen had
Run dry
The hope
Inside you
Now starting to die
With much more to say
You began
To weep
On top of the pages
As you
Fell asleep…
That night
Miraculous magic
Occurred
The tears
Dried up
And formed into words…
But when you woke up
You didn’t bother
To look
Now I wait
For the day
That you finish your book.