It was blank but my mind wasn’t,
when I found that whitest paper beside my study table.
It opened many horizons instantly, my pen started,
hurting with blue wounds, but it was so happy,
to be pierced as Christ on the Cross.
It knew that this would actualize,
sublimate and sometimes would immortalize it.
At the end of such an atrocity,
my mind had sadistic joy,
And my conscience which pricked me,
Called it a ‘masochist’.
But I knew it was all deliberate and expiatory,
I hope tomorrow also I would get a new one
A blank one indeed!