Fear of the blank
laid out before me,
the naked stage
upon which my words will play,
speaks terror to the conscious mind,
threatens to delay
the purge of words upon the empty page.
The words that dare conceive my fate,
The fear of failure or of fame
Enveloping my name,
Both of which now seem to be the same.
Soon, however, relieved of rage thus spent,
the conscious mind relents to seek
Deciding then, to join the plunge
of filling up the page.
ensues the fun
of setting characters upon the stage.
By Shirl A. Steward