In An Empty World, I’m Still Searching For Meaning

An empty sheet with contrasting notes
bearing a reminder to a once fuller page
with inks and colors all over the space
and shapes and words racing off the lines
I catch a deep breath and hold firmly my sword
for a fountain of prose is no longer the case
no more hopes or daydreams or nightmares or ghosts
just smiles and fantasies that linger behind
blinded by rage, misguided by youth
eyes blindfolded, brain dumbfounded
searching inside for a more vivid truth
I jump off the page to find nothing around

I turn the page with harrowing despair
to find a sheet that is most verbose
ripe with words and the most beautiful of shapes
for each a book would not suffice
I cling onto the edge and reach out for my sword
but now my hands are too weak to hold
the pen that once in my hand had stood
lo! shame on you dreams of my worn out mind
Only at sleep you reside
Only at sleep you resound.