Analysis of Unwritten

Give me the raw essence,
The smell of fresh ink,
A blank page
Yearning for expression.
Not relics polished
By the hands of antiquity,
Not tales of dusty triumphs
And defeated dreams.
I seek to mold
The unwritten,
To sculpt destiny
With my fingertips.
To breathe in the possibility
Of what lies ahead,
Unfolding,
Like a new dawn,
Like an improvised symphony