Space

Sitting and staring at this blank space, I have nothing to write. Nothing new to speak about, nothing essential that would bring about any radical change. Troubled by several matters, shared with none. Inhibited by nothing but a silly shroud of pride. Resplendence twirling in mock temptation, there are queries to which no answers can be derived. Mindless pursuits of temporal bliss, eager to grasp & cling to a fragment of miraged hopes. A singular fragment would suffice. Flights of fancy pursued with abandoned guile, the severity of it all sinks in now. Self-admonishment transforms nothing. Space. I need a clean slate.