The Duel

I have an affinity for making something out of nothing. I can take a blank piece of paper and with words make a mountain seem not so majestic. I do this by dimming down the description of the land mass, portraying its majesty as an obstacle in my way rather than a canvas for something new. Only then will I give peace talks to hijacked readers that are expecting me to unearth gold, in return showing me scabs and broken bones. A mountain is only ugly when you decide it is or when it turns against you. I find both scenarios uninhibited by imagination because nature is more beautiful than I can muster and being unnatural along its ridges is cause for alarm as gravity will insist. Going beyond beauty and labeling it nondescript makes for better scenery instead of imagery that brings nature into human confines. I would rather walk in silence than have natural phenomenon endure my limited descriptions. Unless another poet was attempting to make nothing out of something by looking inward. I would then take an abyss of words never before strung together and have a duel to the end with him as if words were here to give us strength and pit us against one another. To see the world within ourselves is as useless as seeing ourselves outside the world. I will fight hard with words so as not to make a scratch on the invisible and win again as usual against nothing.