I suspect I am not alone in being a writer who finds comfort in knowing the page is always there. Sometimes intimidating, sometimes welcoming, it is ever present, and that, for me, is a good thing.
I’ve been riding the page for a long time now. Through good times and bad, times of gain, times of loss, new beginnings and gut wrenching ends, I keep riding the page, a promise unbroken.
On this page I can visit and leave, smile and frown; flip someone the bird when they’re letting me down, and so it goes when I’m riding the page, the promise stays unbroken.
The cuts from some expected and some not get cast to the side when riding the page because here stand the borders to me, the perpetual motion of thoughts to be said and feelings to be spoken.
Always the page, no matter the broken, always the page for dreams to be spoken.