There is a world that exists…
It is made of story book stories.
The words written on the pages
The pages lay before you
There is a beginning and an end.
Sometimes the story continues in your imagination.
Each word paints a picture.
On each page the palette of paints
Become something great.
There are pages and chapters
there is the action, the climax, and
This is the story of life…
the pages before you.
but you cannot skip ahead
you do not know how many pages are left,
the length of the book,
or the number of chapters.
You do not know the character list.
Before you turn the page, the story exists only in the writer’s mind.
It is the imagination,
of the muse,
the creative fire
that guides the work.
Each moment is a page.
And you force yourself
To not skip words
Because if you rush past the words to skip ahead
The story…the book is over before you know it.
The mystery, the intrigue, the anticipation, the suspense…
So…you cherish each page, each word
To paint the picture,
Tell the story.
Instill within you
The truth of humanity,
The purity of the human experience.
You hope for an epilogue, or even better a sequel.
You never ever want the story to end
So you can get lost for eternity.
Your heart breaks countless times as you read the words on the page.
You heart rejoices countless times as you read the words on the page.
Your heart beats fast and thumps away
Yearning as the characters do.
Their hopes and dreams the same as yours.
To the fact, that these are words on a page.
Pages in a book.
Stories and paintings of the words.
Stories and paintings that belong to the muses
and the creative fire.
But none the less – a story.
You open your eyes
you wake up
That you have your own story.
There are pages unwritten
Words and ideas unformed.
Your book is not finished.
Your story has not been told.
There are pages to be written
And pictures to be painted.
And it is painful to leave this world of story book pages behind.