I have loved the stars too fondly…

 

Though my soul may set in darkness,

it will rise in perfect light.

I have loved the stars too fondly

to be fearful of the night. –Sarah Williams

Words are our most important discovery. Forget about fire, forget about all the places we’ve been to, and all the places we’ll reach. Words allow us to see farther than any telescope. And, at the same time, words allow us to see inside each and everyone of us, to see every lever and gauge and all the other tiny elements that make us work. So it’s also a microscope.

Sometimes you read something a stranger wrote on a lonely night and you feel less lonely. You feel like you somehow know them, and your only regret in the world is that you haven’t read their words sooner. It doesn't matter that it’s late and you’re tired, it doesn't matter that tomorrow the words will still be there.

Sometimes you read something that’s so good that you want to absorb it all, you want for those words to become you, to express  who you are. Words written by a stranger, describing who you are to a billion other strangers.

And sometimes words are just beautiful. They sing to us in ways that no song ever could, in ways that turn the ordinary into extraordinary.

We didn't invent words. No. The words invented us. They invented this world, and kindly allowed us to create a million more inside our head or on paper. And we use so many words, at strange hours of the night, that sometimes we feel trapped by them. We feel lonely and scared, and we feel as if words can’t really express who we are. That, somehow, all we are doing is diminishing our experiences and feelings by writing them down or saying them out loud.

It’s easy to feel this way, especially if you've been writing for some time. To feel that we haven’t yet discovered the words that could accurately describe the fire that burns inside us.

And what do we do?

We use words to create the future. We use them to write about who we always dreamed of becoming but never had the courage to become, we use them to write about who we’d want to be, who we think we are. We use them to describe a world that was never meant to exist.

We travel this world with our pockets filled with dreams, and we can only make come true a few of them. The rest we write into existence hoping that someone else might want to make them come true…

We live on through our words.... We aim for the stars..our souls float in realms only imagined.

Village Girl