Thus do I stand, with pen in hand,
not upon the humble notebook’s ruled confine,
but on the vast and vacant whiteness of this page,
a void, wherein the mind does wander,
seeking what the emptiness might stir within.
It does compel—a force unseen, yet felt—
this endless stretch of unmarked space,
which bids me fill it, conquer it,
a field to sow with thought,
to cultivate with word, and shape anew.
As kingdoms do, when realms grow restless,
so too my hand doth strive
to extend its reach, and claim this empty land,
that it may leave its trace, its mark,
a fleeting empire of ink,
against the vast expanse of blank.
