Just forget everything else.
There is nothing here except this empty page that waits. The hesitant footsteps come, slowly, tentative at first like some cautious animal stepping out over the page.
These words, like this, have never been here before. Each blank page is something new, something yet to be. The words become like footprints across the snow-bare page, leaving echoes of the thoughts that put them there. The selection of each word placed like a careful footprint across the blankness.
Who knows what each step will reveal, what each word will uncover? Sometimes there is nothing there, except the words, nothing behind them, nothing discovered, nothing revealed. The words look as though they lead somewhere, charting a route across the white page, but they do not.
Following the trail leads only to the end of that trail. The page is covered but nothing has been discovered.
Sometimes, though, the words, even just simple words, seemingly cast down on the page without much thought, can reveal much more than originally apparent. Sometimes the words themselves do not seem like much, but words can weave magic.
Spells are words ordered in a certain way to unlock the universe. Sometimes words can cast a spell across the otherwise uneventful page. The words can reach out from that page and grab you; never let you go. The words will worm their way inside you, burrowing deep, never to let you go.
Then days, months, years, decades, later you take a new route through the corridors of your mind, seeing a way out from the dungeon of thought that has held you captive. Then you come across those words, waiting forgotten down in the deepest darkest corridors. Those words still remember their route across that blank white page. They still remember how to weave the magic of their spell. Such is the way of magic and the magic of words. That route those words traced across the sheer whiteness of that blank page is the same path that leads you out of those twisted underground passages of the mind and out into the light.
Out there, free from those corridors of the mind, you find another blank page waiting for you. But the words that set you free are reluctant to step across the page once more. They have set you free; they have shown you what is possible with just mere words.
Now it is your turn to step out onto that blank page, leaving your word footprints behind as you search for what the empty page hides within itself. The words follow your steps across the page, tentatively at first, but, in time, the words join hands and begin the slow steps of the dance that will create the spell, ready for you to cast.
Then you look up at the words dancing out across the page and the magic spell they have created, all from those first few hesitant steps across this emptiness. You realise too, that now the page is full and the magic is done.