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BeneathTheTides
Moon
- Joined
- May 28, 2019
Doorways have always been seen as something magical.
Poets have sung of ones as passages to the heart.
Science offers new avenues of life once they unlock theirs.
Writers place them, locked and sealed, with fangs hidden behind them.
Peoples instinctual collective nature is on more display than you think.
Yet, we as individuals ignore every facet of what is built into us.
Civilization, culture, and towering monoliths of steel and glass have taught us to stop asking 'silly' things.
So, it is few and far between, that we question...
What if?
...when we step through a thresh hold.
What if I find something else behind the door?
It is up to you though Dear Reader, what you see where your legs carry you.
After all, to you there is only one true answer to that strange question I pose.
It is you, and your perception of the world, words, and life, that brings you to this screen.
I am merely the fool who asks...
what if?
The rest of it?
It hangs there as a key upon a strap of string.
Just another lock to disengage, or another passage that leads further.
I am merely the a set of words who wishes to explore a story and ask a simple question.
What if?
It is your fate, your choice, your chance to write with another stranger on your screen.
Simply that question waits all the same...
... what if?
Doorways have always been seen as something magical.
Poets have sung of ones as passages to the heart.
Science offers new avenues of life once they unlock theirs.
Writers place them, locked and sealed, with fangs hidden behind them.
Peoples instinctual collective nature is on more display than you think.
Yet, we as individuals know every facet of what is built into us, and open them all the same.
So maybe, just maybe, I can offer a few more spaces passed locked places.
And if you do not find it true enough?
I have only these last words...
May you find your better angels so you can steal their feathers to use as quills.
Poets have sung of ones as passages to the heart.
Science offers new avenues of life once they unlock theirs.
Writers place them, locked and sealed, with fangs hidden behind them.
Peoples instinctual collective nature is on more display than you think.
Yet, we as individuals know every facet of what is built into us, and open them all the same.
So maybe, just maybe, I can offer a few more spaces passed locked places.
And if you do not find it true enough?
I have only these last words...
May you find your better angels so you can steal their feathers to use as quills.
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