I dream I am a carpenter,
Carving words from simple ideas.
I dream I am an artist,
Molding stories from questions.
I dream I am a writer.
Words soon discovered my dream
And swept me off my feet, unprepared.
They whispered softly in my ear,
Laughing, giggling all the while,
Whisking me away with promises.
They told me of lands far, far away,
Beginning with “Once upon a time,”
Then snatched the tales away from me,
Laughing as I stumbled blindly.
Words are cruel if given too much strength.
I used to dream to control words,
Thoughtlessly caging them in stories.
Now I dream of an alliance.
We share the goal of touching lives, but
We need the other to begin.
No comments:
Post a Comment