He stared into a blank piece of paper.
Blank from where I stood, but he saw more.
Constructing scenes yet to be painted.
Choruses yet to be written.
And feelings he wanted to dive into.
To swim around under their surfaces.
To find buried treasures within a page.
Gems within a line, and gold between stanzas.
Exploring a language that his heart had commissioned his hands to transcribe.