Awake

Mar. 1st, 2010 12:05 am
plumgirl: (Default)
While I lie here listening to the sounds leaking in from the outside world
I ponder the sense of loss one feels after putting down a diverting book.
Transported away for a few hours at a time to stranger worlds where the choices matter,
It's the coming back to the drudgery of the work/eat/sleep cycle that makes one feel empty.

Writers I think understand something of this feeling; I think those of us who write or create - some, not all - many of us understand the magic of the wriiten word. We feel the draw of a good story. We long something fierce for the worlds we create. Or we are wrestling with ourselves.


Posted via Journaler.

plumgirl: (Default)
Millions of snowflakes falling in the dark night
Each its own crystalline star
Passing lightly, wandering down to the waiting earth
Where they must inevitably dissolve and return to nothingness


Posted via Journaler.

October 2010

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