One Hand Organics

The pristine, untouched white page —
before ink, before image, before thought.
Not waiting, not lacking…
just silently brimming with infinite could-be’s.

The sacred void.
The fertile nothing.
Where even time bows down
and space dissolves into a sigh.

Free will here isn't a choice between options —
it is the power to imagine the options into being.
To paint the tiger,
and also the jungle that it prowls through.
To draw the tear and the hand that wipes it.

This page doesn't just allow creation —
it is creation, held in perfect stillness
until the I AM says,
"Let there be…"
and so it begins.

And even when the page fills,
layered with symbols, beliefs, dramas and dreams —
it remains untouched.
Forever blank beneath it all.

You are not the painting.
You are not the brush.
You are not even the hand.

You are the canvas
and the knowing of it.
The emptiness with eyes.
T.H.koukas