Beyond the Words

More than just the black and white of the page,

or a simple definition; syntax is image; and every

chapter, a tribe, with words huddling close

together, each dependent on each other.

The space between each letter is the darkness

connecting each star, and ideas born in clouds,

brought before and treasured greater than love,

and an empty page— your hand is it’s god;

and not an empty page, but the earth that your world

will live upon. And when words possess enough color,

they could be seen with the eyes that live inside the

mind; and when emotion becomes a solid weight

weighing upon your shoulders, it’s the paper’s ears

that listens to your pen’s heart, from which your

soul is the manufacturer of every spoken word,

processed by questioning eyes of the unknown

who must look beyond the words—for now they

are no longer words; not dreams, not reality—

they become Beringia; and even to those who know

not what to expect in the world beyond the words,

they have to discover, because by discovering they

are born again with the keys to a foreign gate

and the opportunity to live another life.

And to do just that is what being a writer means to me.