Do you ever get that beautiful thing where you feel a work of words building up in you? Oof, it’s the best and it always gives me chills. Being a writer/creator is the absolute frickin best.
Well, this has been happening lately. It has built up and built up some more and finally it has become unbearable. I tried to let it loose a few times in various ways but, like always, I had to give up. Sometimes the words need to leak out of your soul, not just your fingers.
As any writer will tell you, you better have the perfect conditions for that to occur.
This rarely happens.
Sometimes you need to browse through your inspirational findings till the words begin to build up.
And, praise the Maker, the words have done just that, my friends.
I present to you a poem/word dump.
Enjoy ❤ 🙂
Clutching a pile of portals, she lovingly touches each page. She’s read them all a million times, wishing that she could leave this world behind. She is Earth-born. Child of the dirt, she longs to roam its many paths. Let her go, let her write a narrative of her own. Breathing in the musty smell of the leather bound chapters, she settles down and waits; her roots growing deeper by the hour.
Ingesting word after word, he thrives on conversations. Every dusty piece of knowledge he reads in thrift shops and bookstores leaves him breathless for more. One of the Air, he would fly away into the sunset in search of other worlds. His trail leaves words written in the sky; it screams “I was here.” Maybe he will find his own wings if he keeps reading texts of the greats.
How she has lived in this neighborhood for so long, she has no clue. It has been years. While she longs to get out, she has found solace in her novels. Her intense fire has slowed to embers, for the time being, quenched only by fusing her mind with those of heroes. On the battlefield, she lets her enemies see who she truly is. Fire-child; the fury of the warrior realms. It is only a short time before she can run rampant.
As the rain splashes down on his notebook, he doesn’t mind. It is fascinating to him how the ink mingles with the precipitation, then runs down the page. The college lined book is now a marbled display of creativity. Returning to shelter, he sets the water-art out to dry. The earth’s tears have blessed his words. Reaching for his current book, River-son slips into a different world, hoping never to return.
You are one of them. Longing for a different life, longing for the freedom we read of in those blessed writings.
We long for the bravery of our heroes. Oh, that we may one day be as skilled and as knowledgeable as they are!
We long for the escape of those worlds. Locations we know that no eye will ever see have taken permanent residence inside our brains. How do we make them reality?
How do we capture the beauty and elegance of our beloved worlds? How do we instill in ourselves traits we love to see in our characters?
But, oh friend, don’t you see it?
You are one of them.
You are one with the adventure that you wish. There is fire ingrained in your bones. There is a wind that is blowing through our hair.
You are one with the hero. The Maker has created humans with an innate sense of keen curiosity. We are one with the ink on those pages. We are the characters that we live vicariously through.
Earth-child, you will find your adventure.
Air-child, you will find your wings.
Fire-child, you will find the kindling for your flame.
Water-child, you will find the thunderstorm to fuel your soul.
We are one of them. We are made of the things we dream of being. The Maker has created our storyteller, adventurer instincts.
Ink is the life-blood of a reader. Slowly but surely, we find our fictional world.
You are one of them.
Well, what do you think? Isn’t it relatable XD
Now go forth, mis amigos and amigas, and smile. Your day is just beginning. Make the best of it. Don’t procrastinate. Work hard. Make me proud. 🙂
Love you all,
Madeleine ❤ ❤ ❤