Sometimes, there isn’t anything spectacular for me to say.
No insight to expand upon.
No thought that is festering.
Nothing but a blank page.

Yet, I come to that page with humility.

It beckons me to be there because it knows the only way forward is to write some more.

It challenges me to fill it and like a runner who hit the wall, promises something rewarding if I keep pushing through.

One pen stroke is all it takes to spark an idea, but it won’t let me know which one it is. I must persist.

Sometimes, even with persistence, it doesn’t happen on that page.

There is no magic this time.

Sometimes, it’s just a blank page.

A blank page with words.