My mind is blank, like an empty wall.
No stories, no inspiration, no thoughts no dialogue.
And then somewhere in an obscure corner
the tiniest hint of a plot breaks out.
The scene, the words, the characters grow
like the tendrils of a vine that seeps through the cracks and reaches out
to take hold of the empty space.
Suddenly the wall is no longer empty
as leaves unfurl and the vine spreads.
New characters are born with each flower
that bursts upon the scene.
The fruit grows, the story matures,
filling the empty spaces and delighting those who partake.
Now where once was an empty wall a vineyard stands,
serving generations to come.
Where once was an empty mind,
now a whole world is experienced.
For the original post see my HubPages account.
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