To The Blank Page

I’m so unimportantly important.
Or is it importantly unimportant?
Either way, I’m in a portent,
And perhaps that may be good.

Or per chance could it be bad?
These contradictions can make me awfully mad.
Damned if I am, or damned if I’m not?
Or is it blessed that I am what I am?

Should the universe be so kind as to provide a hint?
Maybe my whole life has been a hint,
each day offered as another chance to get it.
Or maybe I already get it?

Some say ignorance is bliss, and
I in my ignorance blissfully agree.
It’s easy to trust that the truth will come–
that scares the shit out of me.

Do I really want to know the truth?
To shatter my ignorance in a single moment,
with truth so pure it tastes like a lie?
Is this really what I want?

No.
Yes?
Maybe…
Another item added to the list of “I don’t knows.”

It’s like being trapped in a cage, with a lion.
It’s like your heart will stop at any moment.
It’s like your lungs will refuse any more air.
It’s like your mind is losing track of itself.
It’s like your body is trying to shut down.
It’s like you want to run, but your legs won’t move.
And there is no cage, and there is no lion.

There’s only you.