Real Time - ORIGINAL PROSE

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Break and shatter, stuck back together; bend and break, only till the next, when I mended the cracked pieces and glue them in place, till I melt and break once more, all under pressure. I hope to live and breathe, it see what the world looks like atop the highest mountains, only till I float down to earth once more and sink low beneath the ground, stuck in quicksand, wondering where it all went wrong.

Real time break, real time mend, up and down I go, that's the way life goes. Magic exists, just inside my head, till I write these words down on paper, magical words of sacred spells, spilled over boundaries of creativity and imagination.

Though lower still, I sink beneath chaotic waves, a storm raging up above and behind my eyes. Real time, I close them still and go back to that sacred place from long ago, a gift from mothers to daughters, one of many secrets only women know.

Until I open my eyes and allow magic to spill from one world to the next, where pigs fly and rabbits talk, and in real time, I lose myself in the forests of old, where myths and legends come alive and I, all at once, feel complete.

nothing else but my heart's desire [COLLECTION] | FINISHEDWhere stories live. Discover now