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The blank page

Hello! Remember that here you are in the poetry section, where if you allow it, you will enter that part of you that simply wants to express, without so much logic.

I'm going to take you on a trip in this analogy... like those trips that I like: deep, but with a soft touch. In those that carry you as if you were in a river. Where you start reading and almost without realizing it, you already have the last words of the last paragraph left.

And every time I face a blank page, it is as if thousands of words come to my mind waiting for their turn to be expressed. As if they got a ticket to wait in line. As if they were fighting for a space to be heard.

Each one wants to tell something. Each one brings a story. Anxiety is slipping through my fingers. Which one do I give space to first? Which one has sacrificed more? Which one has given enough to be worthy of expression?

My little words that speak so much and are silent so much. They wait patiently, quietly, in line, for someone to come to them.

save their lives.

Because we do wait. We hope to be worthy. We hope to be heard. And many times we get lost in the wait. We miss the opportunity to live our own lives, hoping to be good enough to be validated by others. We believe that effort is the key to success. And the more we try, the closer we get to that full state.

And for a second, we forgot the meaning of the word we were bringing. The word Love was confused, believing that to find it he had to possess another. And the word Stability believed that to be stable you had to appear well all the time. The word Spirituality believed that the further away from others, the happier

iz would be. And the word Beauty believed that with a pretty face it could conquer the world.

What the words did not know is that without a doubt they were going to be expressed. It was not necessary for someone to write them down to be heard. Little by little they began to look at each other and recognize that even though they were all different, there was something that united them. This need to communicate what was inside them, but not to impress others, but to express themselves. To know themselves and the value they had inside. There was something that united them beyond appearance. There was a type of communication that was not transmitted with language. But, deep down in their hearts, they knew it existed.

And that's how they began to observe each other. They looked inward and then outward. And they began to work together. And they created phrases, paragraphs and poems. They created mantras, stories, myths and encyclopedias. They created their own language.

And when it was their turn

their turn in line, they had almost completely forgotten why they were there. They looked at each other, finding some answer or direction. How were they going to fit now on a blank page after the wonders they had created? And that's how, almost unanimously, they decided to leave the page blank. They no longer had the need to be validated by others, to prove to others. It was enough with the value that had already been given.

And with a blank page, Silence was born.

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