Been wondering who I am. I keep chasing shadows, peering through keyholes and opening hidden drawers, searching for long forgotten friends, shimmers from the past. Why have I slumbered for so long?
Yet the passion is blossoming inside me once again, from the place inside my heart where it's patiently been hibernating. The longing fills my being, my very senses: words woven together to dance across my consciousness; stories harboring in wait, longing to be told.
And they will, for I know I am a Writer, no matter how many times I've forgotten in the past.
"She says there are stories everywhere and that people who wait for the right one to come along before setting pen to paper end up with very empty pages. That's all writing is, apparently, capturing sights and thoughts on paper. Spinning, like a spider does, but using words to make the pattern."
From The Distant Hours by Kate Morton
Image from rainbowsandhippos on Tumblr.
I momentarily lost my way: fogginess seeping into my skin, an ocean of raindrops. I cradle my inner compass against the steady beats of my heart and lead my ship into the sunlit horizon. My voyage is steady, on course. It's time to fly again.
Peering through a window of maybes and possibilities, wistfulness and hopefulness. I'm trying to remember how to paint my canvas, though I'm having a difficult time deciding which colors to use. Perhaps I'll choose all of them; I love rainbows.
Been wondering who I am. I keep chasing shadows, peering through keyholes and opening hidden drawers, searching for long forgotten friends, shimmers from the past. Why have I slumbered for so long?
"I want to be magic. I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile. I want to be a friend of elves and live in a tree. Or under a hill. I want to marry a moonbeam and hear the stars sing. I don't want to pretend at magic anymore. I want to be magic."
Outside in the falling dusk, I watch the sun set and night fall across my shoulders. The sky is a vast ocean, stretching infinitely-- no stars, no fallen moonbeams, just a deep and endless sea. I'd tumble in, if I could.
Fleeting moments: far away vapors of smoke; swirling, dancing, twisting inside my mind. They're all hovering within my fingertips, but just before I touch them they disappear, all of my 'Once Upon a Times' and written memories. I watch them fly away and long for their safe return; they float through the clouds like feathers.
It's night. I gaze at the heavens, the vastness of the stars, the patterns sprinkled in the velvet canopy. I want to bathe in starlight, sprinkle it on my skin, lock it in my heart. I'll gather it and the moonlight and weave them through my hair.