The Promise of a Fresh Page

When I sit down with a fresh page,
    I feel a mix of:
        Excitement
        Dread
        Terror
        Energy
        Hope
I never quite know what I’m going to say,
      How I’m going to say it,
      Who’s going to hear it,
      And when it’s going to be finished.
 
But I do know this…
     When I write on that fresh page,
     I am able to:
          Create worlds,
          Claim thoughts,
          Recollect memories,
          Teach what I know,
          And speak in my own voice.
 
There is power that comes from a blank page;
      A clean slate thirsty for chalk,
      A whiteboard yearning to be colored with markers,
      A small booklet beckoning for a title page and an Author’s note.
           The power comes from my head,
           And pulses its way down to a pencil, a fountain pen, a keyboard.
 
First letters, then words,
     Eventually paragraphs and pages,
     That come together to reveal something intimate,
     Something thought-provoking,
     Something worth saying.
 
The promise of a fresh page.