The future is a novel waiting to be written
Empty pages upon empty pages
With only thoughts to bring them to existence.
Pages sitting next to a full bottle of black ink
Who's ink splatters the page making markings
The distinct markings of what’s to come
Illustrations into the depths of the author’s mind.
The beginning of the book leads to the end
But that is the hardest part
Knowing where to start
How do I start? Where do I begin?
What is the topic?
What do I do with my life?
All of these questions flow through the my mind
Yet maybe the story is already mapped out,
Where each of the events is strategically planned by the universe
With a mystery conclusion for each character.
Whether an outlined story, or created with experience
The need for chapters goes on.
The characters in a fantasy land
Wishing that their dreams as well as yours can come true.
A  setting that is horrible or beautiful.
From the post apocalyptic universe where
Every building is crumbling
And safety is questionable for
monsters roam the streets,
To the beautiful mountains of Anchorage Alaska,
a remote log cabin
Surrounded by the smell of musty leaves that whisper in the breeze
The smell of fresh sawdust.
The powerful plot
The conflict that will make your heartache,
But the characters will never understand why
Their lives are full of instances where the world is against them.
Why no matter what they do
Some villain will try to take away their happy ending
Some loved one will die..
The Hero is the savior
The one who never gives up
No matter the force against them
The one who ensures the good things are ahead
The one who knows exactly what to do
What to say
And how to act.
If only living like a hero was easy.
Where every action is clearly laid out.
For in somnis veritas, and if you dream to be a hero,
Then maybe it is true.
I can fly, or read minds
Or do anything that I wish to do or be
Anything that will help achieve my goal.
Abilities or not
I will go on.
For my destiny stands before me
And my book will remain unwritten as long as my life goes on
For my future is an unwritten novel
Pages and pages that are as white
As a blanket of snow
Untouched by living creatures
And it is my job to fill those pages.