Blank Pages

Posted on by Reena Saxena

In the quiet of dawn, we stand between incomplete chapters, ink still wet. The afterlife whispers, veiled, a mystery we’ve yet to grasp.

Hearsay and imagination intertwine, Threads of curiosity spin, but the future in this life—Ah, that remains a blank page.

Yet, undeterred, we write. Words etched upon the present, A story unfolding, inked with hope, On this canvas of fleeting moments.

For life’s book knows no end, only pauses, suspended ellipses. And we, the storytellers, weave tales upon the void.

Coming or going, the questions remain the same, and I will paint those on the open page.

Friday Fictioneers

Moonwashed Weekly Prompt

39 thoughts on “Blank Pages”

  1. Everyone said it, still I’ll repeat, Reena. What an extraordinary, profound piece, dear.

    ‘…For life’s book knows no end, only pauses, suspended ellipses. And we, the storytellers, weave tales upon the void…’

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  6. Awesome. I feel I’ve been trapped for months in that void between ideas and actual putting said ideas onto paper. I haven’t had the energy. My pens are setting in their jar, A ream of paper sits on the corner of my desk… and every morn, I sit with my coffee and stare at them.

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          1. It was a piece of advice given to me by none other than Stephen King back when I was in the 4=5 grade at Young Author’s Conference. I actually use a lot of what he taught us.

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