If God Was a Cursor

As I sat on my usual perch in front of my computer screen, I pondered the empty document staring back at me.  The cursor sat there blinking at me, expectantly.  Blink… blink… blink… blink.  With each blink it grew larger, or perhaps the rest grew smaller:  who’s to say.  The cursor became all there was and everything else melted away.  Only the blinking cursor and the vast white sea remained.

Blink… blink… blink… blink.

Suddenly, this unexpected guru standing straight and tall in its white void realm, spoke.

“Imagine passing from this life a stranger to yourself,” it said.  “Like leaving behind an irreplaceable half-read novel and never knowing the outcome of the story.”

I was the one blinking now.

Blink… blink… blink… blink.

I was holding my breath.  It blinked back, seemingly equally poised, waiting for me.  I dared a thought but the thought appeared as a single character and nothing more.


“Write the words,” it commanded.

I obeyed:

Imagine passing from this life a stranger to yourself.  Like leaving behind an irreplaceable half-read novel and never knowing the outcome of the story.

I waited.

Blink… blink… blink… blink.

“Read them,” it requested.

I did and waited.

Blink… blink… blink… blink.

“Now sink in them.”

I did.  And as I did, I slowly began reading the silent novel of myself.  I carefully turn each pristine page.  Even though all the pages are blank I just can’t seem to put it down.


12 thoughts on “If God Was a Cursor

    • Thank you, Char. That’s exactly what happened when I sat down to write tonight. I had no clue what I wanted to say and just reported what I experienced. Sometimes I (and collectively, we) need to learn to just let go and let it be. When I can do that, things write themselves and I just kind of steer the fingers. I guess you could say the cursor became my muse. Thanks for reading!

  1. I love this, what a great meditation. Awhile ago it occurred to me that if I was stuck on a desert island and was allowed only 10 books, at least 4 of them would be blank. The book of ourself indeed feels infinite at times. Thanks. Namaste, G

    • I’m really happy you enjoyed reading it, grosenberg. It was a form a meditation, no doubt about it and I definitely learned something from it. Sometimes I wonder, this “book of ourselves” may very well be infinite and each life lived is a chapter in that book. Makes you ponder a greater plot than the one evident in this particular chapter, doesn’t it?

  2. I really enjoy abstract writing. I realize it’s not for everyone but it does allow a reader to take whatever message is hiding between the words with them, and it may be entirely unique from what the writer intended: not necessarily “misunderstood” but rather offering what is needed by the reader. Does that make sense? Thanks so much for reading!

  3. ooh this gives me goosebumps – the kind I get when there is something I’m supposed to pay special attention too =)

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