We belong

not to a boss

or to our family, by blood

but to

a beautiful idea.

One must learn a family

be influenced

by its values

of selected

character

written down

or being written, in real time.

Oh, the joy, of discovering a character

who, you want to be

perhaps, only for a summer.

I don’t meet them at parties

at places of leisure

I don’t meet them at work

where spirits, are buried

Under

paperwork.

I meet them

between

dusty pages

between

5,000

and 10,000

feet

where the brave

walk

with death

dropping off.

Passion

without insecurity

Love

without loss.

Our conversations build

a monument

to friendship

materializing

out of thin mountain air.

You can trust your characters

their point-of-view

even though, faith in friends

is

foolish

diving into

the deep blue

where you can stop being you

Under

laughing waters

a bold wish

to belong.

We belong

to what we build together

We belong

to conversations

that never end

We belong

to the ocean, without limits

to unseen

spaces

the stories

without

end.

We belong to our characters—

our ever-changing

fictional family.

4 thoughts on “Writers, We Belong.

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