new journal

the first page is always the hardest
with the first incision of the surgeon's pen
we transmute our dreams to flesh
and make them mortal
it is the cruellest thing we can do
and the most beautiful

that instant
when the ink first blots the page
sinking into paper
our perfection is realised

foolishly we waste our efforts
in trying to untangle
all the messy impulses
that led us to that perfect moment