White Noise

The page wasn’t blank from nothingness

But, like white light, white noise,

It was blank from all the disparate pursuits

that sent their separate threads across my mind,

Each tugging in a different direction:

The thread of memories and learnings

from recent days,

The thread of long exertion

sweeping needles off the roof

The thread of hopes and plans

for the not-too-distant future,

And needed tasks to make tomorrow

roll in smooth

Which all resulted

in a cancellation of the crossing waves

And the illusion of an emptiness

that really was a fullness

(and, perhaps, a need for sleep)

that kept my cogent thoughts from forming here.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 24, 2013