The air is sweet as flowers, tart as leaves, chilled, yet warm as breath and blood.
I’m blinded by glare.
She stands in regal glory. A breeze whispers through her white mane, tail, and coat; eyes blue as sky; alabaster hooves. She sees me.
She nods. I go forth on fairy wings. Her breath escapes in silent words. She drops her massive head.
All the angelic colors of the rainbow radiate from The Unicorn’s horn. Magical, ethereal, silky to the touch. All there is and all there ever will be in one sensual stroke. I smile; she nuzzles me.
A blank page is scary stuff! It looks at you in silence. It is a challenge. It is a voice crying out to be heard, if only you could see where it’s coming from. A character is hiding in the wings, trying to make a grand entrance, but only “you” can see him/her. Only “you” can hear the voice.
A blank page is so . . . blank, so empty, when there’s so much inside you. What do you say? Do you trust yourself. Never!
Your feelings rush to the surface to try and fill up the space. Then, everything gets cluttered, and there’s too many words. A dash of white space is comforting, silent, pleasing.
Empty is too empty. Cluttered is too wordy. Being too emotional is suspect. What do you share? Why do you care? What do you dare . . . write on the blank page . . .
Fill it, but not too full; not too sparse. Make it just right. But just right for whom?
I send my words and white space to whomever is listening.
Usually, I’m comical, silly, laughing, but not tonight. Tonight I want the white space to say as much as the words.