Blank Space is about memory relapse. |
As I walk from room to room I try, to recall, the reason I left the other? From one blank space to another I search, I think, I stop. Stop - dead in my tracks. What was it I wanted? What was I going to do? Oh, this pest. So, to another blank space I travel - Another room, another thought; Then - wandering within this nothingness I recall, my hairbrush. The more I think, the harder it becomes; It evolves into a manifestation of matter - My grey matter. Shall I give it a gentle nudge, Coach it, nurture it, Love it? But like all things loved, there is an element of frustration. Hand in hand they go - Like a soft gentle hand within a silken glove They slip together perfectly; As I slip this gentle hand over my brow There is warmth like no other, They seem to fuse into one. I close my eyes and stroke the crevices that lie within, Slow and gentle Soft and serene And, as my fingers fuse with my temples There is a sensation that travels throughout my being, A gentle sense, that caresses and evolves - Evolves like a spark into a glowing light, warming my inner self; Evolves like a bird that takes flight for the first time, Evolves like a tiny seed that creates something beautiful. My thoughts are but seeds, Watching, waiting, listening For the right time, condition and space; Some grow, developing into sprawling beauties But others, others get stuck And as I try to prise these little monkeys out Block; That’s it, gone Until another time, space and condition - And so I begin my journey from room to room Space to space To find, to think, where to begin? My little monkey, My little hedgehog, which hides itself away - When it decides; My hairbrush. |