Anticipation of a Blank Page

Why is the blank page somehow one of the most of frightening images? It is as if through its blankness shines, all the possibilities of words to come.

A kaleidoscope of images of words yet to be written, rendering the mind immovable, like a deer in headlights. How is it, through this blinding white plane, is the brain able to focus and produce? Its like being on the wrong side of the mirror, and wondering how to get to the other side.

A question I often ponder, and a place I often find myself. There are so many thoughts racing through the mind, conscious, even more unconscious circuits igniting each moment. Maybe it is the subconscious that the blank page speaks to. And to wade through the darkness towards a tangible, coherent thought. Maybe all the strain, was spent to define, our current inspiration. That which strikes us as beautiful, or strange, either way note worthy