A White Blank Page

To me, represents how much there is to be said. How inadequately we truly know the human experience and it's conditions, anomalies, and tragedies. Often I feel my inadequacy in conveying anything in it's objective and not whole form is a representation of my innate inability and deficient quality of being. If only I could focus my attention on the sentence. Not the world, but the sentence. If only the world would conspire to manifest what it's trying to say in between the lines- an area that my words vanish into the immense perplexities of life.

If only?