Awakening

Always, the blank page stares
It looks into the void
And finds nothing there
But trails of confusion
Helplessly following things forgotten
Lost to distraction
Cognitive flows broken
By the fragmented remnants
Of reality's collision
With a post-dream stupor
Something will come,
Shapes form in the ether
The boil of a kettle
Providing a breather
Hot to the senses
Awakening something
A re-emergence
Into the real.