I Met A Writer

The strokes of one of the many fountain pens I had lying on the table grew heavier by the minute. Not even by a quarter of an hour into my allocated time to write had my eyes begun to droop. The many twist and turns and hills and valleys that the gods of this world would take me through had taken much strain on my body, till the point that I had felt almost constant tension all around me. I could feel the pull between me eyebrows and the pressure on the sides of my head for most parts of the days, and occasionally I could feel my arteries around my neck throbbing.

What does the spirit within my blood offer me, I would ask myself at times, as I picture small microscopic balls of blinding white light beaming through blood vessels. Then I would question whether I ought to ask what I can offer the spirit instead? The truth: nothing at all. The craftmanship I had possessed was one of handling tools of which I do not have possession of, and what's more was that I had not much control over them. Only the gods of this world do.

I knew after too long of a hindsight that my voice had not been my voice as it is, which would explain why I had always felt it to be something foreign. But I never had the strength on my own to escape, for the breath of their whispers had been what allowed my hands to move. I was like a baby, being rocked in a cradle though knowing I was falling into greater depths of darkness. I wish to rule over them like the animals of the wilderness, but I am a pet of little worth compared to their will.

I would turn to many writers for help, but their words would flutter away like feathers blown by the wind. The many words that tugged at my heartstrings soon then became empty husks of seeds that I once hoped would have sprouted and in fact, did not.

And then finally, today, I met a writer. And finally, the gods of this world will be wiped clean by a single stroke of his spiritual eraser, and replaced with his ever-flowing ink that gives ......... life. And that day, like opening up a page of a map of the universe, bursting forth with colours of all shades and tones, the pride in my eyes had disappeared, and I was standing before a waterfall of light.

Now, I'm like a child, rocking in a cradle but set foot on a mountain that towers over all. What's more is that I saw many others with me. And I see many down below in the valleys, making their way in circles. Oh, I must share more of what I have with them! Oh, may I share what wisdom I have gained! Oh, may the words that ooze out of my pen now bring forth ..... salvation!