Admit It

I’m on a blank canvas, I’m a formulation that hasn’t reached conclusion.
The it, and when you think about it.
I’m a rubics cube in the mix, seeking completion, the thought.
I’m the guts of a creature.
I’m caught in the words waiting to connect, make the point, the dot, sentenced.
Fit the description of the message, when the colors line up.
The combination like factors, match the answer.
Match the pace, synchronize, parallel.
The labor of the session, all that has come and gone, what it’s all for.
The reason, what’s there to know?
What scars have come with the outcome?
What awaits to be said and will there be a conversation?