The feel of writing

Its been long
Long since I have scribbled something
My thoughts, my emotions
Or just my mood swings
Its been too long
You wanna know how has it been for me
All this time?
Even I don’t know
I guess, I was just busy,
Busy doing nothing,
Nothing productive
Just busy
Contemplating what I had been doing

There are so many things that happened
Some good, some okay
Things which aren’t worth mentioning
And things, words aren’t enough to describe
But you know
All this time
There was this thing inside
Poking me, thrusting me
And forcing me
To write, to evince, to play
With words
Again

Missing the feel of those words
Dancing around
Here I am
Trying to come up
With something
I find a pen
And a paper
And look at them for a while
The paper, just white,
drab, nothing attractive
But then, like a black hole
Inviting me to drown
To fall deep into the abyss
Where I used to be
The pen, which hasn’t been used for long
Looks at me with those big doe eyes of a puppy
Begging me to finally use it

My hands tremble as I hold it
The pen ready to fall
My heartbeat increases
I can hear it
My breath fastens
Don’t know what’s wrong
My eyes start glowing,
in exhilaration
Of making the pen and paper meet
My mind is in turmoil
Thoughts, feelings, everything in there
Is in chaos
There’s so much in there
But then there’s nothing
Nothing I could write about
Suddenly, it becomes blank
Utter blankness
As if there was nothing
To even start

I ponder more
And even more
Trying to come up
With something
Anything
But alas,
Nothing
Only nothingness in there

But then, I remember
To write, I’d need to surrender
To my emotions
Residing deep within me
I’d need to fall
In that unfathomable depth
Where no one would be able
To reach me
And then will I be able to indite?

With so much to tell
But void inside
Not able to feel
Not able to hide
Trying to resist
But thrusting to find
I start walking
Completely resigned
Following a mere straw
On the path I draw
I walk, and walk
Run and then walk
To reach the end
From where there’ll be
A new beginning
And
Just when I’m about to arrive
I’m pulled back again, I revive

As I open my closed eyes
Newfound emotions arise
I see the paper, not completely blank
Nothing much, to be frank
But still something in there
Non sensical and bare

But just the joy of writing again
As if I’ve come out of chains
Finally scrawling, after so long
The pen and paper sing a song
Joy around with chaos close
The journey of pen and paper billows
©passionbookworm