Word Upon a Page


I just wish I was a word upon a page, safely out of reach, one quickly scanned over and subtle to a degree that with it the story is magnificent, and without it the story is broken. Written in contrast of the sentence to outline everything within it, precious and structured, and placed to build upon. I would be like mortar to bricks, and I would be like the tricks played by the jester. Each essential to the being, each holding everything in tact. I will be the cogs of the clock, forever counting time and I will be wind to the turbine with Infinite energy. I will be the brush to the portrait of lovers lying naked, and I will be the strings on a violin rosined by the bow. I will be forever patient, for my mistakes have opened my eyes and destroyed my throne.
I will be the climax of your down time and the mellow of your storm, I will be the lost puppy looking for a home. Hungry, tired, thirsty and hurt. Abandoned by myself looking for her, realizing off the trail I had wandered, lost for a while. I will be the sage that finds myself off in the forest, I will be the herbs that are my consonance. I will be the fare the well, and I will be the venture home. I will be the birds who guide me strong. I will be the nest to which we flock. I will be the chest to rest your head, I will be the breast from which you've fed. I will be everything in this world, for everything is always me and I make my own reality.


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