How can you Wait to Write an Epic if you don’t Start with a Haiku

You must be waiting.

To write. The words that you think will change the world. Like yours was turned, upside down. The words that will make the reader fall in love. Just like you do every time. The words that will make sense to someone far far away, in a time not seen by you. The way they did when you first wrote. The words that will end up on a lover’s lips, or in an incandescent reader’s journal, or on your grave, or in a mind invaded by your thoughts. Like they invaded yours. The words that would create the perfect image in the reader’s mind. Just like in yours, when you read. The words to take away your pain, lift off of your heart with their rock burden, to pour on a paper, make it wet with the ink and the tears hidden in between the lines kept away from each burning letter not to smear so the reader could smudge them with theirs, so the pain becomes theirs and the rock implanted on theirs. The words to travel from the lines you wrote, into the corners of the page that the reader keeps folding and unfolding into triangles while they hide their smiles, travelling up to their chin, tugging on the corners of their lips. Like the smile you borrowed from the incessantly tickled daughter. The words that will make a difference.

The words that would turn up themselves to tell a story. A story you want to tell. A story you always narrated in your mind. About a world that you see so closely to leave behind. A world of yours. A story of your world. The words to tell a story of your world.

You must be searching. Waiting. Writing. Crumpling. Erasing. Searching. Scrolling. Waiting. Writing. Escaping. Cutting. Yelling. Writing. Waiting. Throwing. Waiting. Whispering.

The words in your mind from your mouth to the paper. The perfect words to lift. The words that have haunted you to come out. Come out and stop waiting. The words in your mind. Haunting and comforting. You to change it.

But how will you write the perfect words if you haven't blurbed out the imperfect ones first. Filtered them first. Calmed down the hauntings first.

So write.

Whatever the story that comes to you. Write so it is silenced in the locks of a paper, never to haunt you back, when you are writing the perfect words that would do it all.

Change someone’s world, and yours. Make people fall in love, and yourself. With words and worlds. Yours and Others’.