Colors spawn
a black river of ink,
across the page
seeping into the center stitching,
bleeding off the crisp paper.

Thoughts spark,
voracious fires of jumbled lines
and broken images
that piece together the forgotten plot.
A ferris wheel of spectacles
and devious twists have yet to plague
a lifeless character without a name.

A story cries to find voice,
trapped deep within the writer’s soul.
A single pen scratches hopelessly,
producing illegible scraggly lines
that perplex worse than the spread
of a harrowing plague.

And in a momentary flash,
the page is uplifted,
soaring in a high arc to the infamous
trash can.
Blank page once more –
a timeless tale struggles for release as
colors spawn.