The Page (inspired by Margaret Atwood's 'The Page')

Location

61032
United States
42° 16' 30.6912" N, 89° 39' 46.1196" W

To the untrained eye
I am flat
static
innocent
simple.
For the naïve
I have nothing to give or teach or say
because they see nothing
and know not what to look for.
To them I am bounded by the edges
limited by their skill
and subject to their authority.
And I am.

But you know better
for your eye is trained
and trained on me

Indeed, I am nothing
but I am everything.
I am the edges and the beyond
I am all that is, was, and has potential to be
and all that will never exist
I am the universe, the infinite vacuum
I am the epitome of paradox and dichotomy
Between my faces is the dimension you will only dream of
but never touch
for I am the dimension
outside of your conscious reach
I evolve in front of your eyes, though you will never perceive it:
you are easily distracted
and I wear many masks

I am temptress of your deepest desires
and exhibition of your darkest fears.
I see the savage hunger in your
trembling hands and unblinking eyes
as you stalk and crouch
longing to let the frenzy overtake you.
You cling to your dwindling shreds of control
but I am your only relief
the medicine for the madness I create.
I am your guilty pleasure
buried beneath the floorboards under your bed.
Though you try to trap me
I whisper hypnosis in your ear
from the shrouded recesses of my concealment
to lure you down with me.
I possess you with promises of
yesterdays and tomorrows
laughter and fury
affection and grief.
Then I mock you with blank stares
challenge you to break my silence.
I am the riddle of the hollow stomach -
I need little to banish the emptiness away.

And yet I need beyond need itself:
to drink your pen dry
feast on your soft graphite
and swallow your eraser whole.
I beg for the scratch of lead
the stroke of ink
the caress of color
and line
and shadow.
I am your addiction
and your prison.
I will not release you until I am sated

I crave the words
the images
the ideas.
I collect them
for they are not always safe unwritten.
While they sometimes ripen and ferment
like nectar into sweet wine
they can also rot
in forgotten corners of your thoughts
and decay within the flesh that contains them.
You want to cage them
behind your cautious eyes
and within your twitching fingers

But they, like me, are wild
they long to be free

I protect them for you
let them roam and fly unrestrained
boundless
I guard them
so they do not die

For I am immortal too

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