A Writers Paradise-
I’ve been here before, haven’t I?
This hour on the cusp of a new day.
Where new light births into this world yet the sun has yet to begin its shine.
How frequent I visit this place.
How well I know its machinations, its inner workings, its deepest secrets the dark ever so slightly looses grip and shadow to reveal.
As well as my own.
I know this place well.
There are few lies that find foothold, few secrets that keep cloaked in mist and shadow. Few thoughts that go unchallenged in the mindscape.
For to know this hour is to know oneself. In a dreary and otherworldly, yet vexingly true to oneself sort of way.
As if you are a thousand other characters scattered to a hundred winds. And they are all you.
A false reality yet at the same, more true than any truth you’d find in a non-fiction or “based. on a true story” novel.
Yes. This is that hour of fiction a fantasy. Of faces and scattered selves. Yet eventually one must become “whole” again and the hour ends.
Yet each end gives rise to a new beginning. Each death of the hour seeds birth for a new. And fantasy or fiction of other selves fade away.
It is time to face the world. To face reality. To face another false dream in a mechanical life of monotonous & monotone living. Like drones
It is time to play our part in the play. No matter how small. For are we not all main characters? Each with their own stories and subplots.
The tragedy of life.
-A Writers Paradise-
Unpublished Works © 08/21/2017 05:37 am
By Joseph C. Shade
NJW
