─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

❝ I leisurely pick up my quiet quill, 

as I glance at the raged blank paper.

I know it needs a quick word spill, 

now I feel like a huge failure. 

Cold wind whispes past me, 

as the quill gets plucked from my experienced hands.

"I want to be free"

Solemnly someone invisible demands.

Once a blank paper, is filled up with these echoing words, 

as cunning curiosity bubbles up in me. 

The quill in mid-air perks, 

As I write: " Who are thee?" 

"I am someone who you cannot see, 

but someone everyone talks about. 

I am the only rusty key, 

called uncertainty." ❞

***

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Context: The central idea of the poem seems to be about the uncertainty that comes with writing and creating, as well as the fear of failure. The subject matter revolves around the process of writing, the struggle to find inspiration, and the mysterious presence of uncertainty in creativity.

Lesson: Instead of engaging in futile efforts to gain control over the uncontrollable, let yourself experience the discomfort of uncertainty. Like all emotions, if you allow yourself to feel fear and uncertainty, they will eventually pass